Signed SEAL'd Delivered
by MommaKristine
Summary: The team finds themselves emotionally affected on the case of a dead Navy SEAL.  Meanwhile, Tony and Ziva are sent in search of answers, will they make it without their team to rely on? Case-Based Team Fic. Blossoming Tiva/McAbby. NOW COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

Signed SEAL'd Delivered

Chapter One

Tracy Little could smell it when she walked in the front door. She sighed as she realized that this was going to be one of those days where she hated her job. At 19 and in college, there weren't too many options for employment that didn't put her behind a counter asking if someone wanted fries with that.

Her long blonde hair had never done well in the hot greasy environment of a restaurant, and regardless of that, she had always been happiest with solitary work. She could listen to music, work at her own pace, and not talk to whiny 16 year old kids complaining about how their parents had mistreated them.

At least they had parents who cared enough to ground them for being out past curfew, her parents hadn't even noticed when she would be gone for days at a time. That wasn't a good thing for her; she had gotten into lots of trouble by the time she was 17.

The smell from the kitchen snapped her back to the present. Occasionally Mr. Macey would leave something in his kitchen when he was suddenly called away on business. Tracy put the kitchen off for later as she recalled the time he had been called out of state after pulling a steak out to thaw on the counter and she was wonderfully fortunate enough to be the one that found it 2 weeks later when she came in to tidy up.

She shivered in disgust as she remember the way the meat juice had seeped through the container and over the counter, the smell of molded rotting meat permeated the room and it took everything she had not to throw up as she wiped the rotted streaks of blood off the counter and floor. Perhaps he had heeded her words and left the meat to thaw in a bowl this time so she wouldn't face quite the same mess as last time.

Tracy decided that the revolting part of her day could wait a little while, so she could keep her breakfast down. She moved first to the bathroom, turning up her iPod and singing along with her favorite Sugarland songs. The chemical smells wafting through the air as she scrubbed and wiped each surface helped to block out the smell of Mr. Macey's rotting meat.

She knew she should just move to the kitchen now, but she couldn't force herself to face what may await her and so she went on to the bedroom.

Tracy was surprised to see Mr. Macey's room in such disarray. He was normally very neat and tidy, perfect corners on the bed. Something she was sure stuck with him through boot camp and military training. However, today his bed was unmade, slightly askew and the pillows were on the floor with clothes strewn about. She imagined he may have been suddenly called out for work in the middle of some wild bedroom fun, and found herself blushing.

Tracy had always found her boss very attractive, so she didn't doubt that he had any number of wild nights, but this was the first time he had run out in such a hurry as to leave evidence of it.

After straightening up the bedroom and the living room she threw the clothes into a small white laundry basket and made her way toward the garage to start a load of laundry before she tackled the kitchen. As she passed through the kitchen she glanced over the counter tops, scared of what she might find, and perplexed when she didn't see anything laid out, rotting.

Perhaps he left something thawing in the oven, she mused, hoping it was in a dish of some sort, so she didn't have to clean out the whole stove. Tracy was lost in thought as she pulled the door open that separated the kitchen from the attached garage, flipping the light switch on in the same motion.

She was met with a wall of stench as the door swung open and her eyes instantly landed on the decaying body of her boss hanging from the rafters of his garage.

She could hear someone screaming as the laundry basket fell to the floor, clothes scattering. It was several seconds before she realized it was her shrill voice she heard and she tore her eyes away from the disgusting sight, sprinting to the front door and running outside sucking in gasp after gasp of glorious fresh air, but unable to shake the acrid stench.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Good Morning, McGee." Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo said with his classic smile as he breezed into the bullpen barely 2 minutes early that morning a white paper bag in his hands.

Timothy McGee felt himself bristle slightly before he realized that despite the cocky smile on Tony's face the other agent had called him by his actual name instead of some ridiculous McNickname. "You're in a good mood. What's the occasion?"

"What's not to be happy about? It's the first sunny day of spring, it's Friday. My hair is behaving..." as if to illustrate his point Tony brushed his hand forward across his hair. McGee went back to booting up his computer as Tony continued to ramble. "Got myself a new shirt. Someone told me I look good in green." he finished, running a hand over his tie and looking down at his light green designer Italian shirt.

"I was right." Agent Ziva David said from right next to DiNozzo making him jump in surprise as he turned toward her.

"Where did you come from?"

Ignoring his question she reached up to his shirt and repeated his motion from a moment ago, running her hand down his tie and looking at his shirt. "It brings out your eyes." she stated in a matter-of-fact tone as she turned and moved to her desk.

"Incoming." Tony said as he launched a silver wrapped breakfast burrito from his bag in McGee's direction.

The younger agent looked up in time to block the silver torpedo from smacking him square in the face before he fumbled it three times and eventually dropped it in his lapped.

Tony chuckled, moving towards Ziva's desk as he said over his shoulder, "Nice going, McClumsy." He pulled a second burrito out of the bag, smiling as McGee grumbled behind him, and dangled the burrito over Ziva's head.

Agent David thumped him heartily in the stomach making Tony wince and drop her breakfast directly into her waiting hand.

"Geez, you're welcome." he muttered sarcastically, rubbing his stomach where she had punch him before moving back to his desk and diving into his own breakfast as he opened his email and various internal programs.

"Thank you." McGee and Ziva said at the same moment.

They were drowned out nearly completely at Special Agent Gibbs' curt "Grab your gear." as he entered the bullpen, his standard large morning coffee in one hand. The three agents instantly sprang to their feet and began holstering their weapons and grabbing backpacks.

Reflexes quicker then most would expect from a man of his years he deftly snapped the burrito Tony tossed his way out of the air without spilling a drop of his coffee or even missing a step as he moved toward his desk to grab his things. "Got a dead Lieutenant."

xoxo

The house was in a suburb where you had to be sure your friends knew your address or they might end up at your neighbors house. With street after street of the same house right next to itself the only distinction being that each house was opposite it's neighbor. A garage on the left, door on the right followed by a door on the left, garage on the right.

"Ugh! How boring!" Tony sighed as he pulled the van up in from of their destination house, distinctive only in it's crime scene tape and emergency vehicles. The three agents hopped out of the van, moving to the back to gather their supplies. "Definitely a Home Owners Association neighborhood. Not a single colorful paint scheme, no flamboyant mailboxes, no pack rat neighbors with five cars in their front yard. This is Un-American!"

"It is American tradition to put rats in packages?"

Tony just rolled his eyes at Ziva as he spotted Gibbs' empty car across the street. He ventured inside to find the boss and get to work, leaving Tim to explain that one to the Israeli.

The warring smells of long dead corpse and cleaning chemicals assaulted his nostrils immediately as he stepped through the door and he almost envied the Probie lagging behind to explain yet another idiom to Ziva.

Pushing that aside and breathing through the stench, trying to flick that little switch in his brain that would help him zone out the smell, Tony followed the stench to the open door separating the kitchen and garage.

Gibbs was standing back from the still hanging body examining the scene in silence. Tony pulled a camera out of his bag and began to shoot the scene. Definitely looked like a suicide, but they always investigated suicides as murder until it was proven otherwise.

"Get a shot of that chair, DiNozzo." Gibbs said, sipping his coffee, which made the burrito in Tony's stomach feel slightly unsettled. How that man could consume anything in the presence of rotting human flesh was beyond him.

"On it, Boss."

"Make sure you get several angles, with correlation to the body."

"Not my first day, Boss."

Gibbs only grunted in reply.

Ziva joined them after a few moments. "Local LEOs state they did not touch a thing. Looked through the door and saw our guy. Called us right away thanks to the maid's statement that this is Lieutenant Trevor Macey, US Navy Seal."

"The maid is Tracy Little." McGee stepped into the garage making a face. "She has worked for the deceased for about 10 months. She comes by every 2 weeks and has her own key. She said the lieutenant was sometimes out of state for a week or two at a time on short notice."

McGee shifted nervously glancing at their boss.

"What wrong with you, Probie?" Tony asked between flashes of the scene in the garage he turned and snapped a picture of McGee's face making him blink and shoot the older agent an angry look.

"Boss?" McGee was met with just a raise of Gibbs' eyebrows in response so he continued, "Apparently the lieutenant had a habit of dropping everything to leave town and it was not unheard of for him to leave food out on the counter for a week or two before Miss Little returned to clean it up."

"Your point, McGee?"

"Uh, she thought the smell was from the kitchen and had avoided that part of the house until after she was done cleaning the rest of the rooms. Apparently the bedroom had been a mess. She thought it was possibly a sexual rendezvous that caused the mess in there, but after finding the lieutenant, she's concerned it could have been from someone ransacking the room."

Gibbs swore under his breath. "Ziva, McGee, bag and tag. Get her cleaning supplies. She probably cleared off every finger print."

"You thinking it's a murder, Boss?"

"No, DiNozzo, I know it is."

The younger agent turned back to the body hanging from the ceiling trying to figure out what it is that the team lead saw, but he wasn't seeing it.

ME Dr. Donald "Ducky" Mallard came in a moment later with Jimmy Palmer right behind him. He approached the body.

"Before you ask, Jethro, time of death is going to be a little tricky. I can't take a liver temp since he's been gone so long, but once I get back to the lab I am sure we can find some insect activity to get down to the day and closer to a time of death."

"Want us to cut him down, Duck?" Tony asked as the ME moved around the lieutenant's body.

Ducky apparently didn't hear the young agent as he continued to examine the deceased. "Who did this to you, my poor man?"

DiNozzo squinted his eyes, trying to see whatever it was the two older men were seeing that screamed murder over suicide. Tony felt himself examining the uncovered skin, face, hands, arms. The mottled color only appeared to be from his state of decay with no obvious signs of a struggle.

It wasn't until Tony moved behind the man that he gave himself a mental head-slap as he saw the knot tied in the rope at his neck and raised his camera to take several pictures of it.

No self respecting Navy Seal would tie such a sloppy knot. The rope was tight enough to pinch into Lieutenant Macey's skin, but on review it was not a slip knot. No one trying to kill themselves with such a wide knowledge of knots would chose to tie their noose in that manner.

Someone had staged quite a suicide scene here.

It wasn't until Tony went to cut the lieutenant down that it occurred to him. No matter how rested he had felt when he woke up this morning he really must be over-tired and anxious for the weekend.

Tony hadn't even had to move the chair he had photographed earlier to reach the knot which was secured to a wooden beam in the ceiling. There was no way the lieutenant could have been standing on this chair when he hung himself. The rope was too short and there was no indication on the floor suggesting the chair had scooted the 3 feet from the victim's feet as he stepped off.

His investigative skills, wherever they had gone, were back in full force. The agent noticed the slight fraying along the rope from just above the knot to where the rope was strung through a higher rafter, before hanging taut straight down where it was attached to the victim.

Any 2 month Probie would have seen the rope was clearly tied on this man, flung through the rafters and pulled up until the man was off the ground before being tied in place. No wonder Gibbs had given him such an irritated look a moment ago.

He felt a bit of shame creep over him as he realized that he had actually wanted this to be a suicide. Tony had hoped that, after working 10 plus hour days for the last week and a half, they could wrap up a quick suicide and be off work for a much needed weekend.

As Ducky signaled that he and Jimmy were ready to catch the lieutenant, Tony cut the rope. As he watched, Jimmy struggled and eventually lost his hold on the body, dropping it to the cement floor.

Tony knew his good mood was officially gone from that morning when he had none of his normal desire to tease the young man who really never had any luck in these types of situations.

He began to think that it was odd no one ever offered to help him out with this type of thing since he was inevitably going to drop something or break something. He didn't even find humor in watching Jimmy bluster as Ducky gave him a lecture on the proper treatment of the dead.

"DiNozzo!" Gibbs snapped and Tony found himself wondering how long he had been staring at that wooden beam and not hearing Gibbs call him.

"On it, Boss." Tony responded before he realized he didn't have any idea what he'd been asked to do.

Barely noon and he already knew it was going to be a long day.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Back at the Naval Yard in the dimming light of a late spring afternoon, Gibbs walked into Abby's lab. He was greeted as usual with her music turned up way too loud. As soon as he hit pause on her CD she turned to him with a huge grin and waited for him to speak.

"What do you got, Abs?"

Abby's eyes sparkled at the familiarity, he was a man of routine. As she turned back to her computer. Gibbs placed the Caf-Pow! in his hand on the counter next to her.

"Not much, yet. There were cells on the rope, so once I get some DNA, I'll run that against the lieutenant and simultaneously through the DNA registry. Ducky sent up some scraping from under his fingernails and various insect life. I got the scrapings in Major Mass Spec, now."

Abby pulled up a photo on the plasma screen across from her computer and they moved to it. "See these cute little baby fly larva?" Abby continued, ignoring the incredulous look Gibbs gave her. "These little guys, those empty larva sacs and the beetle activity," Abby clicked through several pictures on the Plasma as she rambled excitedly about fly mating patterns and larval gestation.

"Bottom line, Abs?" Gibbs interrupted, ending her rambling.

"This tells us your dead lieutenant was killed between 12am and 6am last Thursday, 15 days ago."

"That's good work, Abs." Gibbs turned to leave, but the Goth grabbed his arm, swinging him back towards her. "That's not all."

He just looked at her, waiting with one eyebrow raised.

"The early insect activity indicates that he wasn't killed where he was found."

"Where?" he asked in standard Gibbs monosyllabic fashion.

"The everglades."

"Real good work." Gibbs said, leaning to give her a quick kiss on the cheek. He switched her music back on as he left her dancing back towards her computer with pigtails bobbing.

xoxo

"Ah, my young man. It is a shame to say the least, and I am sure, were you able, you would agree with me." Ducky spoke to Lieutenant Macey as he sewed closed the Y-incision on his chest. "This reminds me of a man I met when I was at a medical conference in the mid-west. A local man off the farms of Iowa. Corn, as you know, is a way of life in those parts. Well this man..."

Ducky was interrupted mid-sentence as the vacuum doors slid open and Gibbs strode through. "You're telling this guy the corn farmer story?"

"Ah, Jethro, I do not believe you ever understood the true meaning behind that story."

"Duck." Gibbs said with his standard glare, that had no effect on the older man.

"Patience, Jethro. That was the meaning of the 'corn farmer' story, as you call it." Ducky smiled at the agent as he moved to the sink washing his hands.

"I was able to confirm that Lieutenant Macey was definitely already deceased when the rope was tied on his neck. From the insect activity underneath the ligature I would say at least one to two days before the rope was tied in place."

Moving back to the victim ducky pointed toward the markings on the man's neck. "This stippling here is lacking of any coloring you would find associated with a hanging suicide by rope, though he does have all the other signs. If you look closely you can see that under the ligature marks of the rope there is a much smaller line across the neck indicating that the weapon used to kill this young man was not as wide as the rope used to cover it up."

"So we're talking, what?"

"I can't tell for certain, perhaps a fine cord or wire. You can see where it broke the skin slightly here at the front of his throat indicating there was a good lot of force behind the strangulation. And his hyoid bone is cracked." Ducky gestured towards an x-ray on the wall behind Gibbs.

"I have sent some swabs of the area up to Abby. That and the rope could contain some sort of trace elements that will help us identify the exact weapon."

Ducky looked up as the doors to autopsy swished open and Gibbs walked out, Jimmy Palmer coming in at the same time. "See," he said to the man on his table, "I told you; Patience."

Ducky turned towards his assistant, "Mr. Palmer, have I told you the story about the Iowa Farmer?"

"I don't believe, so Dr. Mallard." the young man smiled.

"You see, my boy, I was at a medical conference in the mid-west..."

xoxo

Tony had just hung up the phone, having already sent his pictures and documents over to the plasma screen for when Gibbs returned wanting a status update. He perused a mental list of things he could be doing and found that all the bases were covered.

Still feeling wiped out, Tony stood and stretching through a yawn. He threw a wadded paper ball at McGee, hitting the younger agent square in the side of the head. "Where are you at, McGee?"

"Just sending the last of it over to the plasma." McGee responded, choosing to ignore the paper projectile in lieu of being professional. "Abby called, said Gibbs left her lab over 20 minutes ago, so he should be up shortly." McGee relayed the forensic information Abby had given to Gibbs.

"Ziva?" Tony asked when McGee had finished, walking over and leaning into her space to read the document she was forwarding on.

"Not much."

"I hope you can do better then 'not much'." Gibbs stated pointedly as he moved into the bullpen.

Tony instantly straightened and moved to grab the remote for the plasma screen. Seeing Tim's eyes already on the device he tossed it gently to the younger agent, "Go ahead, McAnxious." Then hid a smile as he turned from the obviously surprised face of the junior agent.

"Um, well..." McGee said as he began organizing the slides on the screen and pulled up the military dossier and ID of the victim. "Lieutenant Trevor Macey, age 38. Never married, no kids. His financials are clean, no discernible discrepancies over the past 6 months. Lieutenant Macey is a ten year veteran of the US Navy SEALs, he has been teaching for a little over 7 years at various naval academies. He is a long standing member of an organization called Special Operations Warriors Foundation."

Gibbs looked at him over his coffee cup as he took another drink and McGee flushed a little, mentally checking to see if he had been rambling. He was cut short in his mental inventory by Ziva swiping the control and bringing up a screen shot of the main page of the Special Operations Warriors Foundation website.

"S.O.W.F." she enunciated each letter slowly as if not wanting to get them in the incorrect order, "as it is more commonly called by the soldiers in participation, is an organization that helps families of fallen soldiers. Lieutenant Macey was very actively involved and often made trips throughout the country to meet with the families of Special Ops soldiers killed in the line of duty."

Tony reached over and clicked a button on the remote in Ziva's hand and the screen changed to military credentials of another man. "The victim's CO at the naval academy, Commander Tyler Barns, also a Former Navy SEAL, stated that this organization was at the heart of Lieutenant Macey's request for assignment to a teaching position with flexibility. The Commander is also involved with the SOWF, and stated that he would regularly work with Lieutenant Macey to meet the needs of both the recruits in training and the families of the fallen whenever possible. To his knowledge Macey had been away working with the Foundation for the last two and a half weeks. He was not due back for another 3 days, which is why no one had reported him missing."

"McGee, you're with me. DiNozzo, David, check out the SOWF. I want to know where the Lieutenant has been and what he was doing for the foundation 2 weeks ago."

xoxo

"Special Agents Gibbs and McGee, NCIS." Gibbs said to a woman at the front desk as he and McGee showed their badges. "We're here to speak with Commander Tyler Barns."

The woman picked up her phone and after a few moments she directed the agents back to a small office.

"Commander Barns," Gibbs stated as they showed their badges and introduced themselves again. The commander was behind his desk, stacks of paper nearly covered the entire surface.

"Did Lieutenant Macey seem upset or depressed at all in the past few weeks?" Gibbs asked, keeping the homicide under wraps so as not to tip off any potential suspects.

"Trevor was a fine SEAL, a credit to this country and his death is going to be very hard for his students and his SOWF families." Commander Barns had begun raising his voice in obvious anger, "I don't know what you're trying to imply here, but if you think that man killed himself you are far too stupid to wear that badge."

Gibbs gave the man a sympathetic smile, "It's always the ones you least expect." Inflecting sympathy in his voice for the other man's benefit. "I don't know how much Special Agent DiNozzo told you over the phone..."

Gibbs paused at the non-question, waiting for Commander Barns to fill the silence, "Just that Lieutenant Macey was found dead in his home today."

Gibbs nodded, "The lieutenant was not just found in his home, he was found hanging from a noose in his garage."

The commander let out an audible gasp and it looked as if the large man deflated a little in his seat, "I don't believe it. I can't believe it. He wouldn't do that..." Commander Barns stared past the two agents, suddenly enthralled with the expanse of white wall behind their heads.

"I can't believe he would do that to those families. So many people counting on him." Commander Barns looked at Gibbs suddenly, "He has been distracted for the past several months. I didn't think anything of it really, the man had so much on his plate. Oh, God, maybe I could have done something..."

"How long?" McGee asked, speaking up for the first time, "How long has he been distracted?" he clarified as the commander looked at him in confusion.

"I can't be certain." Commander Barns closed his eyes as if trying to picture the exact moment when the lieutenant's behavior changed, "Late September, perhaps early October." he finally replied.

Gibbs gave the commander a few seconds to his own thoughts before he continued, "You may know that NCIS investigates every suicide as if it's a homicide until all the evidence is in." Gibbs noted the hint of hope that flashed behind the other man's eyes, "Is there anyone who may have wanted to hurt Lieutenant Macey?"

And just like that the hope was gone from the man's eyes again, replaced once again by grief, "No one." the commander said sadly, "Everyone loved Trevor."

The two agents spent more then an hour interviewing staff members who were in close contact with Lieutenant Macey, but the commander had correct. Everyone had loved this guy and they were still at square one.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Across town, Agents DiNozzo and David were leaving the nondescript tan office building that housed the Washington DC branch of the SOWF with almost 2 dozen files related to the work Lieutenant Macey had done for the foundation over the past 8 years.

"I don't think so." Tony said as he blocked her advance towards the driver's side of the car, laying his handful of folders on top of the ones she was already carrying and hopping in behind the wheel before she could protest.

Ziva laid the folders across her lap as she settled in the passenger seat and buckled up. "You will never see how much my driving has improved if you do not let me drive."

Tony grumbled something under his breath that sounded like, "Hard to see anything if I'm dead."

Ziva ignored his taunt as she began flipping through the stack of folders and Tony pulled the car out into the five o'clock rush hour traffic. "Maybe I should have let you drive. Just closed my eyes and prayed for the pedestrians on the sidewalk as you darted through this mess." He said, gesturing towards the classic congestion that swept the city on weekdays at this time.

"This is quite an interesting foundation, Tony." Ziva replied as if she hadn't heard him.

He waited, sure that there was more to her comment then that, but she just kept reading. Stopped for the fourth time in line for the same light that was apparently put on this corner to torture them with an entirely too short green cycle, DiNozzo reached over and grabbed a file folder from her lap.

Ziva snatched it back before he had pulled it more then a few inches. "You are driving."

"I'm bored, Zee." he wined, his frustrations for the day continuing to build.

She gave him a smug smile as she flipped through the pages. "Then you should have let me drive."

"Come on, now you're just being mean." Tony sighed, "OK, just tell me what the lieutenant's connection to this group is and what exactly he does when he skips town for weeks at a time?"

"From what I'm seeing here, Trevor Macey's time away from DC is spent attending baseball games, going to movies, camping..."

"He was skipping out on the Navy work," DiNozzo interrupted, "under the guise of doing charity and gallivanting around having a good old time? That's pretty low. Possibly enough for a motive." Tony had been watching traffic inch forward in front of him and wasn't aware that Ziva was smiling in amusement as he 'cracked the case'.

Ziva tried to smother her laughter in her hand, unsuccessfully, garnering a disgruntled glare from her partner.

"I never thought you were the type to be amused at someone shirking their duty."

Ziva just laughed again as Tony cursed the traffic light turning red again before they made it through the intersection. She finally gave in to his questioning look.

"SOWF takes care of the families of fallen soldiers. They provide college scholarships, send birthday cards to the kids every year. Some of them even go to camps, baseball games, apparently whatever the families need, but do not have one or both of their parents for anymore..." Ziva trailed off, letting the information that he had been so very wrong sink in as they finally made it through the light only to get stuck again behind what seemed an endless sea of cars.

"I didn't know we had any groups like that." DiNozzo mused quietly, thinking once again about what an ass he had been to hope this guy had done himself in just so he could get a little time away from the office. "Most organizations just throw money at the problems people experience as if the love of a parent could be replaced with anything those families could buy."

A hush settled over the car as the agents got a better idea of the kind of man Lieutenant Macey was. The kind of life that had been wasted.

"Oh Come On!" Tony shouted, shattering their silence suddenly as a cab driver cut them off, barreling through a yellow light and causing them to have to stop again as it turned red.

Ziva eyed him curiously as he slammed the car in park and unbuckled his seat belt. He flung the door open as he said, "You win, get us back before I go on a shooting rampage!"

Ziva smiled as she rounded the car getting settled in the driver's seat just as the light turned green. She slammed her foot down on the accelerator whipping forward and crossing two lanes of traffic before Tony could get his buckle fully latched.

xoxo

Tony was still a little pale as they stepped off the elevator fifteen minutes later. He should have been glad that it hadn't taken the hour it probably would have with him driving. He just couldn't bring himself to be grateful after watching his life flash before his eyes during several hair raising turns and lane changes.

"Boss," Tony addressed Gibbs after angrily thrown his stuff into his chair, "There's got to be something we can do here. Can't we file a petition to have her license revoked or something?"

"You gave me the keys." Ziva reminded him, smiling as she settled at her desk.

"Believe me," Tony said, leaning across her desk to look her dead in the eyes as he promised, "It's not a mistake I'll make again."

"We will see." she replied enigmatically.

Tony turned towards Gibbs and McGee, half sitting against Ziva's desk.

Together the two filled Gibbs and McGee in on the work that Lieutenant Macey did while away from his teaching post.

Going through the largest of the files Ziva continued. "Macey made very frequent trips to see Angie and Dominic Morgan. More frequent then any other family he visited. Angie's husband was killed during a mission in Afghanistan 2 years ago. According to this the mission profile is classified. Dominic, their son, turned 16 last week."

Tony took over, "Apparently, Lieutenant Macey was going to visit the family for the boy's birthday. While not standard, the Lieutenant combined the trip with his own personal time off so that he could be there for a full three weeks."

Tony snatched the file, handing it to Gibbs to look over.

"That explains this." McGee said pulling something up on the Plasma screen. "While the Lieutenant's financial records appeared pretty standard, nothing out of the ordinary, there was a transaction with Loyd's Used Auto sales that struck a cord with me seeing as the lieutenant had an eight month old Ford F150 in the driveway and no other cars on the premises."

"He bought the boy a car for his 16th, pretty sweet." Tony commented, thinking on the conversation he and Ziva had in the car detailing how intricately involved the men of this foundation were with the families.

McGee went back to his computer, as Gibbs continued to flip through some of the files they had brought back.

"What the...?" Tony yelped as he launched himself off Ziva's desk, rubbing a suddenly sore spot on his side.

Ziva was staring at something on her computer, a nonchalant look on her face as she twirled a pen in her fingers.

Tony was about the chastise her for her inappropriate use of force, when the Morgan's file was slapped against his chest.

"What are you standing around for? David, DiNozzo, go check with the Morgan family."

"Uh, Boss?"

"What DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked in frustration as he settled back at his desk.

"The Morgans live in Miami."

"I read that in the file. You know what's right by Miami, DiNozzo?"

"The everglades." Ziva answered for him as she gathered her things.

"Boss, don't you think, well, maybe McGee could..." DiNozzo trailed off as he continued to stand there, his tired eyes pleading with the older man.

"It wasn't a request, DiNozzo!"

"On it, Boss." he replied snatching his things faster then normal, sprinting and turning sideways as he hurried through the closing elevator doors behind Ziva.

xoxo

After securing airline tickets for Tony and Ziva, McGee hunkered down for what was sure to be a long trek through piles of paperwork and checking into further aspects of the lieutenant's activities.

Sitting at his desk long past sunset that night, Tim couldn't shake the voices of those he had spoken with over the last several hours. People who had come to care for and rely on Lieutenant Macey as a surrogate for the loved ones they had already lost.

He had just hung up with a particularly distraught woman in Atlanta. Her son was 12 and had been getting into trouble in school.

"Billy wasn't listening to me anymore. Running around the neighborhood at all hours, smoking cigarettes and stealing from gas stations. Then Trevor showed up one day and picked him up. Trevor just kept coming back and that consistency... you, know?"

McGee didn't respond, she wasn't looking for answers, "Now he's a model boyscout, Straight A student and he actually volunteers to go speak with other families who have lost someone in the armed forces." The woman's breath caught before she continued on a wavering voice, "How am I supposed to tell him? We can't go through this again..."

She began sobbing openly and asked if they could finish this conversation at another time. McGee felt tears stinging his own eyes as she choked out a farewell and he was left with his own thoughts of the young boy and how this could take the child backwards despite all the positive developments he had made.

Everything their victim had done over the past several years had been to benefit others. He couldn't focus on the next file as a rage-inspired headache built behind his eyes at the thought of the inhumanity of man. He blinked the unshed tears away and forced himself to focus.

He couldn't take very many more people telling him how their victim was such an incredible person. He couldn't take any more answers of "Everybody loved Trevor Macey."

McGee couldn't pinpoint why it was tugging at him that such a reportedly good human in a world that he had personally seen could be so screwed up and flipped upside down had been murdered and they couldn't get past page one.

He put his head in his hands as he pulled several deep breaths, in through the nose, out through the mouth. Calming breaths, a technique he had mastered, but usually reserved for maintaining a calm face in the presence of DiNozzo at his most asinine.

McGee was shocked when he looked at the clock on his computer screen. 8:45pm.

That's probably all it was. He was tired. More then 12 hours on the job would put anyone in a fragile emotional state. He knew he wasn't supposed to get emotionally involved, and if he was asked he'd swear he wasn't.

He decided to see if Abby was still in her lab, maybe she'd want to get some food. Thinking back, aside from a Snickers bar the only thing he had to eat was the burrito Tony had brought him that morning. Was it still the same day?

And what the heck was with Tony today? He was in a good mood, cheerful, sharing, taking it easy on the taunts. It had set him on edge all day and he almost laughed thinking that Tony being nice had caused him more distress then the hazing he got from the Senior Agent on a daily basis.

Shaking off thoughts of trying to figure out Tony DiNozzo, a sure fire way to end up in the looney bin, he finally lifted his head. Standing to a stretch, he realized at some point Gibbs had come back and was just sitting motionless at his desk, staring at the younger agent. McGee instinctively froze in mid-stretch.

"Call it a day, McGee." Gibbs nodded towards the elevators. "See if you can talk Abby away from her lab while you're at it."

As McGee nodded and headed for the elevator he wondered if he was really so tired that he thought he saw compassion and understanding in the eyes of their team leader.

xoxo


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

After stopping briefly at home to pack a few things, Ziva and Tony shared a cab to the airport. She had not enjoyed the cab ride. Tony was being uncharacteristically quiet.

She had tried to pull him out of whatever had been troubling him since that afternoon. She was relatively certain he was not still mad about her driving back from the SOWF office, but she could not be sure.

As they waited for their flight to be announced she tried to coax him out. She was unsuccessful.

"Have you seen that new movie?" she was not certain what movie she would have been talking about, but DiNozzo had never let that simple fact phase him. Normally he would start listing new release movies with more details then she ever would have asked for.

When he just looked at her questioningly she had to rack her brain for a preview she had seen a few weeks prior. "That one with that guy from the terrorist movie we watched. Of course, he's quite a few years older now. You know, the guy I'm talking about. He was in that movie in the office building, with the bloody feet...?"

"Die Hard? That's Bruce Willis. Nope, haven't seen his new movie, yet." he answered, without his normal excited extrapolating on the cinematic integrity of the movie, a breakdown of the previews he had seen or giving a historical recount of Bruce Willis' career.

"Oh."

The silence had pushed itself back between them and she could not help thinking about how wrong this was. Something had to be bothering him, but knowing Tony if she asked he would not answer her.

Instead of worrying about his general morale, she should be grateful he was not reciting nearly the entire dialogue of the movie Airplane as they sat there. However, no matter how many times she tried to tell herself, she could not seem to make herself feel relieved.

While she had always teased him that she was annoyed by his incessant talking, she actually felt a strange sense of loss in its absence. She herself was more of a quiet person and having someone else fill the silence with humorous stories made it easier for her.

Ziva tried just about every tack she could think of, teasing, leading questions, she even brought up the prank he had pulled on McGee last week. The most she got for her efforts was a weak smile.

She had hoped something would trigger one of his standard reactions. Mock dismay or fiend shock, that little cocky smile, or the heated stare he gave her when one of them pushed the banter a little further then they should.

Friends do not usually undressed each other with their eyes, and she was fairly certain he was not actually picturing her naked and in various sexual positions when he gave her that look, though occasionally she caught herself doing just that. She was also fairly certain he never really thought too much of it. It was just some light fun to break the tension of a job that would drive most people insane.

An hour and a half spent holding up most of the conversation herself was apparently her breaking point. She had never talked when beaten or tortured, but sitting quietly with Tony at the airport was enough to make her spill her guts.

As they settled in the plane she felt drained. "I do not think I have ever talked so much in all my life." She smiled tiredly up at him from her seat as he stowed his carry-on in the compartment above them and sat next to her.

She let the silence rest as she felt exhaustion weigh her down and thought perhaps that was Tony's problem as well. They usually worked themselves silly on cases, but there was always a few days of down time in between. This time they had just come off more then a week of going almost non-stop.

With Mossad, Ziva had been trained to endure weeks with long hours and little to no sleep, and sometimes she had to remind herself that not everyone had the military childhood she had been raised with.

She found herself thinking back to this morning and his general good mood. It had not turned sour until they caught a murder case that guaranteed he would not be free this weekend.

Then he had been sent out of town, something he had tried to challenge Gibbs on. That one moment was enough to detail exactly how spent the man was. She was slightly unnerved by the fact that he would go against his better instincts of self preservation to attempt challenging their boss.

"I was just wondering why you never did this silent treatment thing in the interrogation room. It is apparently a very effective strategy." she said on a yawn, not expecting any response finally having gotten used to speaking to herself.

Tony chuckled quietly, "That's what I was thinking while you were telling me about your dad catching you making out with that boy when you were 16."

He winked at her and she grinned like a fool. _Finally!_

"I'm not giving you the silent treatment." he gave her an apologetic smile as he yawned into his fist, " I'm just tired."

"So I should probably shut up so you can sleep with me on the plane."

And there it was, all of a sudden his eyelids sank slightly as if they were suddenly heavy and he shot her that high intensity stare, dripping with sexual energy. His voice, when he spoke, was low and husky. "You sure about that word order, Ziva?"

Her eyebrow quirked as she ran through the sentence she had just said in her head, and felt a slight rush of warmth brush across her cheeks. She told herself she was not blushing. She did not blush. It was merely hot in the airplane and she turned the little nob on the roof directing a stream of air towards her face. Why did this language have to be so tricky and obscure?

He broke the stare a moment later on a laugh, a full deep laugh that rumbled his seat and hers, before turning to her with that cocky little smile, "Though if it was an actual offer, you may want to wait until they turn off the fasten seat belts light."

She punched him in the arm and he gave her a completely exaggerated look of shock.

Things were back as they should be.

Tony nodded off shortly after the plane was in the air. She had to admit that nearly 2 hours of driving herself crazy trying to get Tony to act more like himself was exhausting.

The irony did not escape her. As she laid her head back and closed her eyes she realized the entire time she was trying to get Tony to act like himself she had, in fact, been acting nothing like herself, either..

xoxo

Gibbs found himself strolling into an odd situation the next morning at 0600.

Normally he was one of a very few people, besides the guards, who were in the office at that hour, so was surprised to see Abby bobbing with a level of energy he normally attributed to her having had too many Caf-Pows!.

"Thought I told McGee to talk you into leaving?"

"Oh, I did Gibbs. It's just that I set up this program, well, it's more of a device really. It works on sound waves, you know the beep beep when my babies have answers. See, I've been wondering how I could still work while I'm sleeping, or at least sort of work, well, because you know the bad guys still run amok while we're sleeping and if we're going to keep up with them, then we need to work while we're sleeping, too." Abby mellowed enough to see that Gibbs was giving her a look that said 'that's nice Abby, but what the heck are you babbling about?'.

She held out her phone to him. "Major Mass Spec sent me a text about half an hour ago, so I popped in to see what was up and I'm freaking out, Gibbs."

"A machine sent you a text message? Are we both certain I'm not still sleeping and this is some kind of nightmare?"

"No, Gibbs." she laughed at his incredulous look, "I set up a program to hear the beep beep and trigger another program that sent me an email from my computer. Ooh, if Tony was here, he could add to your nightmare with a dozen references to Transformers or The Terminator." Abby laughed in child-like glee and then turned to him suddenly serious. "You sent them down there knowing that the killer was in Florida and they don't have any backup."

"Abby, the killer _was_ in Florida, past tense. The body didn't come back here by itself, OK? So this could be tied to DC same as to Miami."

"But it's not, Gibbs. That's what I'm trying to tell you. The results for the samples from the ligature marks on Lieutenant Macey's neck came back indicating polyester and some other trace particulates." Abby had started pacing frantically in the space between Tony and Ziva's desks, her platform boots clomping as various chains rattled, looking pointedly at their empty desks as she moved. "Do you know what this means? Of course you don't, you couldn't, because I haven't told you yet…"

"Polyester? He was strangled with the 1980's?"

Abby stopped mid-step and pivoted around to glare at him with a look that nearly rivaled his own stare down power, "Stop trying to be Tony just to make me feel better. I know what you're doing and I don't need your sympathy jokes. I need Gibbs right now."

"Go on." he encouraged.

Abby started pacing with renewed intensity. "The lieutenant was strangled with an implement that is about 1.8 mm in diameter and is made up of polyester with trace amounts of something called Dyneema SK75 fiber core. The murder weapon is a type of rope called Spyder Line used in rigging for sailboats. And under his fingernails we found trace amounts of Cuben Fiber which is a material used to make racing sails."

As she continued on, seemingly without taking a breath to extrapolate on how Cuben Fiber is nothing like carbon fiber despite the name similarities and explain in far too great a detail on the production method of the material, he found himself once again fascinated, as always, that she doesn't pass out from lack of oxygen. He has begun to suspect she may have developed a method of circular breathing much like bagpipers and wind instrument players did. As he felt his mind start to wander he knew that he was being given too much information that didn't make sense.

"Abby!" he cut in sharply, as much as he usually tried to avoid hurting her feelings, it was just too damn early for this. "What are you saying?"

"The evidence, Gibbs, the evidence is saying that the lieutenant was killed on a sail boat, or perhaps in a boating supply warehouse, but that really doesn't explain the trace amounts of wax and sea salt on the lieutenant's clothes. I'd be willing to bet that our victim died on a boat that our killer has access to. A race boat. Not like on TV with the crashing and breaking into a million pieces with the little safety pod thing that somehow keeps those guys alive, even though they are traveling at speeds where an accident like that should cause serious damage, but they just bob there until someone comes and fishes them out. No, not that kind of race boat, ones with sails, you know sailboat races."

She finally took a breath as she walked over to Tony's desk and stopped pacing, hanging her head a little. When she spoke again her voice was quiet and soft. "You know where they have a lot of Sailboats, Gibbs? Florida."

Abby dropped tiredly into Tony's empty chair, elbows on the desk, her chin in her hands, she looked at him with pleading eyes.

Gibbs could handle a gunshot wound, he could hold his own in a knife fight, or take down a 250lb muscle head suspect without flinching, but he couldn't handle that lost little puppy dog look she was giving him, and she knew it.

This was blackmail, and damn her, but it was working.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Sorry for the long delay, I have been posting daily as much as possible, but came down with a righteous bug that made me loopy and incoherent. Everything I typed in the last two days had to be scrapped because reading it in the light of wellness made me realize that NyQuil is the devil of creation.

Everything seems so wonderfully gripping, suspenseful and/or funny and then I read it through again and wondered when I let my 12 year old nephew in to work on my story for me. Thank goodness I don't have WiFi and did not have the energy to physically move my story from my laptop to the desk top to post it or you would all be scratching your heads and cursing the green medicine right along with me.

Hope this doesn't disappoint considering the long delay. I am already started on the next chapter, but wanted to get this out there for you all. Sorry for rambling and interrupting your the story... I blame the lasting effects of extreme NyQuil ingestion. I would appreciate you letting me know what you think and if I'm still in a haze and not making sense in the realms of my story so I can change things before I get to far into the next chapter. Thanks for reading.

Chapter 5

McGee had woke fitfully that morning at 5am and had been unable to go back to sleep. Rubbing his eyes he started plowing through the lieutenant's personal computer files. Going through the man's electronic journal had felt like an invasion of his privacy, reading all of his personal thoughts and feelings.

Discovering that he was the son of a police officer slain in the line of duty who had grown up without a father had been an eye opener for the life the man had lived and the charity work he did. McGee didn't even have to do any actually detective work on this one, the man had been open and honest in life as well as on the written page.

Tim began to wonder if Macey had been through some level of counseling for all the introspective observations he drew.

Lieutenant Macey clearly drew a correlation to his father's death and his inability to settle down and have his own family. He clearly expressed his innate fears of leaving a child without a father as his own dad had.

McGee felt a sense of familiarity settle on him as he continued to read about a mystery girl Trevor didn't refer to by name. The more he read, the more this sounded like Tony and Ziva's freaky little power struggle that he never seemed to quite understand. Perhaps that was the novelist in him, reading too much into their daily banter. Yeah, this was more along the lines of his fictional characters based on them, Tommy and Lisa.

_I Find myself watching her and wondering why it is that I just can't tell her everything. We have danced around this situation for five years, flirting and making jokes, but it never goes beyond a joke or a sultry look shared in a quiet moment. I see her everyday and everyday I want to see her every night as well, but I fight the urge._

_Logically I know anyone could die walking down the street so the fact that my job had been so dangerous, really shouldn't have phased me as much as it did. Still the fear is there. Fear that I will let my guard down, make a life, start a family, and one day I just wouldn't come home. I would leave them, and they would have to bury me, sobbing as I had at that grave when I was 8. They would have to live without me. It is a pain I cannot pass on to my own child. I cannot._

_Grief and despair had been so thick in my home growing up, almost like it were it's own person. A hovering clinging person who never left the room. A child loosing a parent at such a young age is damaging to say the least. No matter how many times I tell myself that it is illogical to block my personal feelings and live my life with one-night-stands and close, but not too close, friendships I still can't bring myself to break down the barriers I built in my heart all those years ago._

_I couldn't imagine inflicting that kind of heart wrenching pain on another. Especially her. Sure, she seems strong and self assured, capable and determined, but she has let me see inside her soul to see her vulnerabilities. Told me her fears, even let me be her shoulder to cry on when she thought she had lost everything. I told her she still had me and this was my opportunity, but I made a stupid joke, because I just wanted to see her smile again and there it went. _

_I would give anything in that moment to see her smile as tears trailed down her face, but as soon as the moment passed I would give anything to get it back so I could stop joking around for a minute and just tell her._

_I know, from the heated looks we share on occasion that if I pulled her to me and kissed her with all the passion we shared in those long looks that it had the potential to be amazing. In fact, I know it would be earth shattering as an understatement, but even so, I don't know how I would react the next day. _

_I am scared that if we cross over to the place I feel we have been heading for so long that the next day my fear and doubt will come back. I will say or do something stupid and then she will be gone. Not just from my bed, but from my life, and whatever goodness is left in me would go with her._

_I definitely can't just have our time together be another meaningless romp in the sack. More and more everyday my defenses come down as I watch her, watching me, or we share a smile that has nothing to do with what either of us has said or done. Everyday I feel more certain that it will be the day I finally tell her how I feel and everyday I chicken out, worried that once I have her with me exactly where I want her that I will do something foolish and mess everything up. _

_I know, not exactly what I thought a minute ago, but the two go hand in hand. I don't want to be responsible for causing pain to her or our future potential children, but at the same time, if I had her and my innate ability to be absurdly moronic overtook me and I caused her to leave I would be back to that 8 year old kid standing at the graveside. That shattered empty person that I was back then would return and I would have nothing left to live for. _

_Suddenly I find myself wondering if the trade-off for that heart wrenching pain and overwhelming grief would be worth it. Lately I have thought that even one minute loving her, one time hearing her say those words back to me would be worth anything that life could throw at either of us._

_I know in my heart that even if she feels the same way as me she will not wait forever and someday she will come to me with an invitation to witness her vows with another man and celebrate the rest of her life with her and her new love. This stops me cold. _

_Here I am again, alone, getting ready for bed, resolve firmly in place to just walk up to her tomorrow and tell her everything. I know by the time I wake up the resolve will be gone and I will let the day pass by until the days drift into weeks again. When will I grow a pair and stop being such a whiny, weak child about this amazing woman?_

Tim printed the passage, folding it and putting it next to his phone just as his alarm rang in his bedroom signaling that it was 6am and time to get up. Tim's eyes had fallen on another section of the Lieutenant's journal. As he came back from silencing his alarm he read the passage more intently, threw clothes on as quickly as he could, grabbed his keys and raced for the office. He knew Gibbs would already be in and he was certain they would be on a plane to Florida to join Ziva and Tony before the day was out.

xoxo

Gibbs had pulled Abby up from Tony's chair into a reassuring hug. He wasn't sure what he could do to relieve her anxiety, because, frankly he thought it was unwarranted. The evidence was circumstantial and not worth her getting so worked up over before they had a chance to look into it.

He was still racking his brain for something to say to ease her mind when the elevator dinged. The doors opened and a very tired McGee stepped out and approached them.

Tim took in the sight in front of him and felt his stomach drop. Gibbs was consoling Abby, in the middle of the squad room behind Tony's desk. This was bad. Tim's heart shot into overdrive and he was having a hard time pulling in breaths as he finally got the question in his mind to form into actual words, "No..." he said softly, pulling in a ragged breath, "Oh God, what happened?"

The pair pulled away from each other and turned, regarding him with looks he couldn't read. The mere seconds it took for them to figure out what he was asking them felt like a century as he waited to hear news he had not been expecting when he had raced to work this morning.

Tim slammed the folded passage he had printed down on Tony's desk so hard that the sound was nearly like a gunshot in the quiet bull pen. "Tell me what the hell happened?" he said angrily earning a glare from Gibbs that he couldn't help not caring about as he folded his arms over his chest and glared right back.

Abby, realizing what Tim must be thinking, moved around the desk and pulled him into a hug he didn't even try to return with his arms still crossed as she said, "Nothing, nothing happened." she released him and turned her own glare towards Gibbs, "And Gibbs is going to make sure that nothing does, either."

As Gibbs watched the two in front of him defiantly telling him what was going to happen, arms crossed and twin glares on their faces he felt a subtle sense of pride.

As McGee moved over and sat at his own desk, finally allowing relief to wash over him, Gibbs had Abby fill Tim in on what she had found and went to grab another coffee so he didn't have to listen to the whole tangled mess again.

Gibbs walked back in just as Abby was finishing up and Tim turned to the team lead, "It's funny that Abby wants us in Florida. When I rushed in here today I was going to suggest the same thing, Boss."

Tim pulled up the Lieutenant's journal entry on the Plasma. "Turns out the lieutenant's interest in Dominic Morgan ran further then just being an inspiration and mentor to the boy. He had found out that Dominic was being pursued by a gang with ties to Cuban drug trafficking."

McGee let Gibbs and Abby read through the entry on the screen before he continued, "This entry is dated the day before he left for Florida, he was going down to confront the gang and drag Dominic back to Washington DC if that's what it took to keep him safe. Apparently he had already discussed it with the mother, Angie Morgan, and though he was sure she did not like the idea, was willing to do whatever it took to keep the boy out of harms way."

"See Gibbs? Cuban drug cartels? This is more then Ziva or Tony think they are walking into." Abby said quietly, watching him from next to Tim's chair, her hand on the agent's shoulder as he waited for Gibbs to give his approval.

Gibbs nodded to McGee and the younger agent started booking their flight.

Gibbs picked up the phone, hoping to catch Tony and Ziva before they walked blindly into the middle of a gang war.


	6. Chapter 6

Tony was up before the lazy spring sun that morning. He had crashed hard shortly after arriving at the hotel, around 10pm. That combined with the 2 hours of sleep he got on the airplane and it wasn't even 6am when he woke.

He moved the heavy curtain that covered his sliding glass door and looked outside into the lightening gray haze as night was disappearing.

Figuring he could get in a quick shower before the sun actually came up and then go out on that sorry excuse for a patio and enjoy what was quite possibly the best on assignment view from a hotel he had ever lucked into, he grabbed his things and headed for the bathroom.

He stepped out onto the little patio a few minutes later after throwing on his pants and toweled his hair. After scrubbing his hair dry for a moment he threw the fluffy white towel back inside the door where it landed across the foot of his bed.

He felt revitalized after a restful night. Being able to stand outside in just his pants with no shirt and bare feet when just yesterday he had to turn the heater on in his car on the way to work made him grin as just the tip of the sun became visible over the ocean.

Their accommodations were not directly on the ocean, not even within a half mile actually. However, the buildings between his room and the beach were not tall enough to block his view and he could see straight out over the water.

As the sliver of sun began to swell over the horizon, Tony leaned on the railing and watched the soft orange and pink hues push back the gray blue of night. He thought oddly that it was almost like him and Ziva yesterday.

He had been in such a foul mood; the last thing he had wanted was to be sent out of town. All he had wanted was to go home to his own bed and sleep in late. At least, that's how he felt until they were sitting at the airport. Ziva had asked him some question about Bruce Willis, and he was still too glum and stubborn to try and be entertaining, so he just brushed it off.

He felt bad instantly as she fell silent, chewing her bottom lip and looking toward the ground. It wasn't her fault he was in a poor mood and yet, there he was taking it out on her, not even willing to be pleasant with a friend when his mind was bogged down with a mix of exhaustion and guilt.

He was about to speak up, to apologize, he could at least respect their partnership, hell their friendship, enough to not treat this as if it were some kind of last march to death row.

But then she started talking again. She just kept right on taking, stopping every now and then to give him a chance to speak, but it had been the most he'd heard her say in a single sitting and so, for once, he just sat and listened.

She wasn't' extrapolating on combat tactics or discussing military weapons, she was just rambling, seemingly without any kind of point at all. That was until she somehow ended up talking about her boyfriend when she was a teenager.

She had been looking off towards the terminal, and he saw the moment she realized what she had said. Her eyes opened just a fraction wider and her cheeks, very lightly blushed over.

He turned away before her gaze came back his way and fought the urge to laugh, quelling a smile before it could form. He very seriously stared out the window of the airport and focused on his breathing. If he laughed now, she would stop talking and he was enjoying himself.

Tony was smiling at the memory of the second time she blushed on the plane as he watched the sun rising further on the water. He could more clearly make out the shapes of masts docked just south at a little marina, rocking gently with the waves of the ocean. when there was the sound of someone clearing their throat next to him.

Tony turned to see Ziva had at some point come out on her own balcony to the right of him. She reached out one of two hotel mugs she was holding in his direction and he took it. He wondered how long she had been standing there, but just shrugged and thanked her with a nod as he took a sip of the horrible hotel coffee.

"Mmm, just the way I like it, watery and bitter."

They turned their gazes back towards the horizon, the sun nearly halfway up now, the pink and orange hues starting to fade higher in the sky where clear blue took it's place.

"It will have to do. I did not feel like missing this to go get some real coffee."

He nodded, but didn't shift his eyes from the ships, bathed in orange and swaying as the ocean waves lapped against them.

"I did not expect you up so early."

"What, 10 hours of sleep isn't enough? Are you implying that I'm old?" he asked in mock horror.

"No, the old need very little sleep, actually. Perhaps I was implying you were a child."

He laughed at that, because it was so like her. He definitely felt a little more comfortable with this Ziva over the one that was at the airport with him last night. It was like invasion of the body snatchers or something he mused as they fell into a comfortable silence.

Once the sun reached the point on the horizon where it was no longer pleasant to look at and was instead just painfully bright he turned back to her and gestured towards the hotel room. She nodded, both knowing they were here for work and the moment of relaxation was over.

Ziva was downstairs standing by the rental car, keys in hand when he had finished getting dressed and headed out to meet her. Preparing to tell her exactly why she was not driving and risk the wrath of an angry Ziva over risking his own life with a driving Ziva he was shocked when she tossed him the keys and slid into the passenger seat.

They were in the middle of grabbing a quick breakfast when Gibbs called. The news was not exactly pleasant, but it was nice to know what they could be walking into.

xoxo

McGee had arranged their flights for that evening and then began making more calls as he simultaneously ran searches and read bits and pieces of the lieutenant's journal. He was trying to go back and find any time he had mentioned his enigmatic love interests name.

Just having gotten off the phone with the used car dealer who sold Lieutenant Macey the car, he now knew the man had purchased a 2001 Dodge Stratus SE, gold and had the license plate numbers, though all of that was probably unimportant, because any minute now Tony and Ziva would be arriving at the Morgan residence where the car was likely parked.

There it was, nearly 5 years prior he mentioned the name Teresa, but the things he said in that entry rang with things he said in later entries, but had only used the general of she or her. She was the only woman he talked about in all the entries McGee had read that wasn't a general "had sex last night" or "that lady from wherever wants to go out again". She was the only woman, aside from the mothers from the foundation, that he was delving into their lives with any kind of detail and thought about.

McGee started another search through the naval academy staff with the first name Teresa and came up with a hit right away. Teresa Chandler, age 35, worked in the same office as Trevor and as McGee looked at the picture he found it difficult to reconcile this smiling picture to the woman he and Gibbs had met while interviewing people at the naval academy the day before.

The woman they had met, while still very pretty like this picture showed, had none of the obvious joy from the photo. It struck him during their interview that she had looked very lost. She had spoken highly of Macey and had begun crying during their interview. He had not thought much of it then because everybody had loved this guy and most had gotten choked up, if not outright cried at the news that he was dead.

Looking back with the knowledge he had of the Lieutenant's unspoken love and observations of this woman he knew right then that they couldn't keep her in the dark about the lieutenant's death being a murder instead of a suicide as they had been letting on during the initial interviews.

He called and arranged for her to come into NCIS for a follow-up interview on the guise of needing some further information on Macey. He didn't consult Gibbs before calling, and afterward, wondered if that had been the right thing to do. The woman did not do this to the lieutenant and she deserved to know what was going on. Gibbs be damned, he wouldn't sit back and watch someone suffer thinking they hadn't done anything to help a troubled mind.

He knew he had been swept up in his writers fantasy that these two were like his friends, or even his characters. And because he had put himself in that mind set he knew that he would not want to leave his partners or characters wondering if someone close to them had killed themselves if it could be avoided.

Gibbs strode in a moment later, back from visiting Abby and Ducky and if his mood was anything to go by, he didn't have anything new from her.

"Boss, I found the girl that Macey references repeatedly in his journal. Her name is Teresa Chandler." McGee said, pulling her picture up on the plasma. "She's on her way in."

Gibbs gave him a questioning tilt of his eyebrows.

"Uh," McGee thought fast, put that writer's mind to work, he yelled in his head as he scrambled quickly, "Um, if she is nearly as close a friend as his journal suggests then she may have insight into his life that we can't get anywhere else."

Gibbs nodded, seeing right through the soft heart McGee had been wearing on his sleeve since yesterday. He rounded his desk and sat, flipping open a folder before adding, "You should probably make sure she knows this was not a suicide. If they are as close as he suggests in his writing..." Gibbs trailed off.

After a few seconds of McGee not filling in the blanks and just staring at him quizzically he added, "We don't know her emotional state and we don't need a real navy suicide on our hands."

McGee's eyebrows raised, he hadn't even considered that potential outcome, but can see now that could be an issue. He was not worried, she said she would be there and he believed her, he just needed to get something.

He looked around his desk for the passage from Lieutenant Macey's journal that he had printed at his house this morning, checking his pockets and the floor near his chair. Nothing. Oh, well, it was probably in his car, he just called up the entry again and sent it to the printer. This was something he was sure she would want to have and hold on to.

xoxo

A/N: Thanks for sticking with me through my NyQuil haze... your reward is a second chapter in a single day. My muse has not left me in hours and I am working on the next right now, hopefully up tomorrow. Thanks for your reviews and I will respond as soon as my muse slips away, I'm sure you understand that focus on the story while I have the thread moving will be mutually beneficial for all of us. Thanks again.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

"Oh God, not again!" Tony said each word as if he were in physical pain as he started down the street towards the house of Angie and Dominic Morgan. "What is wrong with these people? What would make someone want to live in a house that looks the same as every other house on the block?"

"Perhaps to fit in, no?"

"No, Ziva." he drew out the A as he said her name with a teasing glint, "I suspect this is less about fitting in and more about hoping someday your neighbors wife might 'accidentally' walk naked into your bedroom instead of her own." Ziva made an incredulous face, but he continued.

"No, hear me out, I think I've just solved the great Suburb Mystery. People who live in these houses are confined by their jobs, lives, mortgages, kids, they can't even stand out in their own homes because they are constrained by their home owner's association. What else do they have?"

He didn't let her answer before he found himself smirking and continuing, "I bet every summer they have a great big barbeque, or a block party in the middle of the street. They give the ladies way too much alcohol and go climb into bed waiting with doors open to see which neighborhood wife will end up walking into their house that night."

"So, you are saying these neighborhoods are full of adulterers who, what? Play some kind of sexual rushing roulette?"

"Russian. Like the people from Russia. That's international, you should have gotten that one."

She waved off his correction, "You really think so little of marriage and family?"

Tony laughed, it felt a little strained to his own ears as he kept his gaze on the road a moment, "Not marriage and family in general, but have you looked around? Anyone who lives in a place like this doesn't think very much of themselves either. They want to keep up with their neighbors even if it means they themselves become suburban zombies, feeding the next generation of cardboard cut out doctors, lawyers and politicians who will build and live in their own little cardboard cut out houses. Eventually the cut outs will out number us real people, and what are we going to do then?"

"Is this from one of your movies?"

Tony got a little twinkle in his eye, "No, but it sounds good, doesn't it? I bet we could make a mint on this. We should write it, maybe we could get McWriter to help out, make it a team project. Campfire Productions presents..." he trailed off, trying to think of a good name.

"Suburban Mystique?" Ziva offered with a rare giggle.

"Oooh" he smiled as he pulled up in front of the Morgan house. "Not bad, Ziva. Not bad at all. Maybe we don't even need McGeek. We can cut him out, keep the royalties all to ourselves?"

Ziva winked at him, then reached for her gun, suddenly serious, checking it before they got out of the car, just in case.

"We'll continue this discussion later." he said as they walked up to the door.

Angie Morgan was a frail looking woman. She had been through a lot of emotional turmoil in her life and it showed on her delicate features. Her hair had yet to gray, though that could be more from a bottle of brown hair dye then because it was still naturally that color.

She was alone when they arrived, Dominic had been out with friends the night before and since it was the weekend she didn't expect him back until Sunday.

She welcomed them inside with curious eyes and offered them a seat and drinks. They declined the drinks, but joined her in the living room.

When they gave her the news of Lieutenant Macey's death she just considered them sadly.

"You do not seem surprised to hear this?" it wasn't really a question, but Ziva's voice went up slightly at the end and she sat silently waiting for the woman to address the issue.

"When Trevor didn't show up for Dominic's birthday I knew something had to be wrong. You guys being here asking about him could only mean a few things and Trevor was a lot of things, but none of them bad and definitely none of them criminal."

Ziva nodded, giving the woman a sympathetic smile, "So Lieutenant Macey had not come by? Had not had a chance to drop off the car for Dominic's birthday?"

The woman's lips started to quiver and her eyes instantly teared up. "He was bringing Dominic a car? Oh, my. He knew we had some money trouble with me out of work, living on my husbands survivor benefits, Dominic works odd jobs to help pay bills. He's just a boy, that's not something he should be doing, but he does it anyway. Feels like he needs to step up as the man of the house since his father..." she stopped suddenly, too choked up to speak.

Angie looked down at the floor and took a few breaths to calm herself before she turned her grief stricken eyes to them again. "Trevor has always been so good to Dominic, to both of us really. You find whoever did this." a sudden venomous tone in her voice, "You find them and you make them pay, because that was a good decent man and he deserves justice."

"Can you tell us a little more about the concerns Lieutenant Macey had for your son?"

Angie nodded, "I really don't know too much. Dominic is a good kid, but apparently while he and Trevor were out a few months ago, they had run into a friend of my son's that gave Trevor a bad vibe. He had been looking into the young man's past and had finally come to some serious conclusions about what these people wanted my son involved in. I really don't believe it, because Dominic is a good boy, but these gangs are dangerous. If they want him and he doesn't want them? They will make life very difficult until he goes along with it. They might kill him if they don't get their way, and that scared me enough to tell Trevor that once Dominic was 16, if he came and confirmed that he was in any kind of potential danger then I would sign my son over to him to go to Washington DC and live with Trevor until I was able to sell the house and move up there with him."

"When did Lieutenant Macey first bring this issue to your attention?" Tony asked.

"The first time was probably October, I think, right before Halloween last year."

After cycling through the rest of the standard questions of did you notice any changes, did anyone want to hurt him, can you think of anything that might help us figure out who did this to him, their avenues were exhausted as far as where the mother was concerned, but they wanted to speak with the boy.

"Do you have a way to contact Dominic?"

She looked at Tony as if he were crazy. It was obvious she was trying to shield the boy from the hurt that would most likely be bone deep once he found out he had lost another father figure, but finally relented in the interest of justice. "Not exactly. We don't have money for cell phones, but he is usually hanging out with Jake Boyle or Kyle Rodriguez, let me get their information for you."

She left and came back a moment later with their information.

As she walked them out, Ziva gave the woman a card, "If you think of anything else, you have any questions, or if you hear from your son before we can reach him, please give us a call."

They were shown out, but just before Angie shut the door, Tony turned back to her, "Does your neighborhood have a block party here in the summertime?"

Angie seemed taken aback slightly by the sudden change in subject, but answered "Yes, every year in July."

Tony thanked her for her time and they started to their car. He turned a cocky smile towards Ziva as he pulled the rental away from the curb, "See, I told you so."

She just rolled her eyes.

xoxo

Security called up to let McGee know that Teresa Chandler had arrived. "Send her up." was his only response. He checked that his histories and searches were still running, grabbed a file folder for the case, making sure to pull any pictures out and put them face down in the back of the folder before slipping the journal entry inside.

"You want to take this, Boss?" he asked, offering the older agent the file folder.

"You can handle this one, Tim."

As he walked over to meet security with Teresa Chandler at the elevator he felt slightly unnerved. Gibbs usually reserved use of his first name for emotional moments, consoling moments, or when he had done something Gibbs couldn't understand to crack a case, usually something to do with computers.

With a Ding the elevator door slid open, and the woman from the photo stepped out. She was a small woman, 5'1" he knew from her file, but even after meeting her the day before she seemed smaller as if the weight of the grief was pushing down on her. Her curly dishwater blonde locks were swept up in a simple pony tail, away from her face exposing her bright blue eyes that still housed that lost look he hadn't fully registered on meeting her yesterday.

McGee thanked the security guard dismissing him before turning to Teresa, "Thank you for coming in."

Once they had settled in a conference room, McGee offered, but she declined any drinks. He had made sure there was a box of tissues on the conference table, a pitcher of water with a few cups around it. He grabbed a glass and poured himself some water before settling in a chair across the table from her.

"Sorry to have made you come down here, but we felt that this discussion was not suitable for your office."

She just nodded, "Did you find a note?"

"What?" McGee asked, mind on the journal entry in the folder in front of him, not fully registering what she was asking.

"A suicide note? Did you find one?" he voice was sad and pleading. "He would have left it explaining things, especially walking out on everyone he cared about."

McGee shook his head, trying to gather his thoughts, "There was no note."

Teresa's shaky hand reached out grabbing a glass and filling it with water. She didn't move to drink it, just seemed to be keeping her hands busy. Once she finished she set the glass down and her fists curled into tight fists on the table. "That son of a bitch!"

Her sudden anger surprised McGee and he felt bulldozed as she pushed on not letting him get a word in edgewise.

"He can't do this to everyone who cared about him. Just leave without telling us why. He should have left something, anything to tell us," her voice broke, but she pushed through the tears that began flowing down her cheek, "Should have told us what we all did wrong."

McGee had to stop this, he didn't know how to start with her continuing to rant and cry. He placed a hand over one of hers and handed her a tissue with the other. On second thought, after she took that, McGee pushed the tissues right next to her hand.

She finally stopped ranting to give him a grateful smile as she wiped at her eyes and blew her nose.

McGee squeezed her hand again, "Trevor didn't leave a note, because he didn't have a chance to."

She looked at him with pleading eyes, questioning without speaking.

"He didn't kill himself."

Teresa's eyes filled with fresh tears, these ones falling in silence as her clenched fists relaxed, she turned her right hand over under McGee's and squeezed back. "Please, please tell me what happened?"

Tim swallowed around a fresh lump in his throat. There wasn't that much that she should or needed to know, but he told her what he could. Enough to alleviate her guilt and then continued.

"You and Lieutenant Macey were close?"

Teresa nodded, "We worked together almost everyday. We were friends. Sometimes hung out after work, he helped me move. Helped me get everything together for my father's funeral." She trailed off, fresh tears springing in her eyes. "Who is going to help me with his?" her desperate tone hinted more to McGee that she was indicating more then just planning the funeral, but also the grief of losing a loved one.

"Can you think of anything that might help us figure out who did this? Did he say anything to you about trouble he was having or anything he was worried about?"

Teresa nodded, "Um, there's a boy he's been worried over for about 6 months. One of the kids from the foundation."

"Did he give you any insight into his concerns?"

"No, nothing specific. Trevor said the boy was friends with some dangerous people and without his dad there to watch over him Trevor was concerned he might fall in line with his friends and ruin his entire life."

McGee noted the common thread to the lieutenant's journal on his notepad with his free hand, gave her a little squeeze in encouragement.

"He had such a soft heart." she continued wistfully, "He cared so much about people who were going through what he had in his childhood and he did everything he could to make up for what those kids had lost." Teresa shook her head, "Why would someone do this to him?"

McGee was certain she didn't want an answer. Having spent all yesterday on the phone with similarly grieving families he had become accustomed to the question. He just gave her a gentle squeeze of her hands and waited, but she appeared to be out of words. "Is there anything else you can tell us that you think could help?"

Teresa shook her head, "He was a good man."

McGee smiled reassuringly, not sure how to ease into the next question, so he just jumped in, "Did you know that Lieutenant Macey kept a journal?"

Her eyes shot from their twined hands to his face, trying to read something in his eyes. "No." Her expression turned contemplative as she tried to fit that piece of the puzzle into the man she knew. "It makes sense, though. Trevor was definitely not a quiet man, but he didn't say much of substance even to those close to him. He played his cards very close to his chest, but his ease of relating to those kids and putting their feelings into words I had always wondered how he had so clearly grasped the words to express."

She smiled at him as if realizing something for the first time, "It would make sense if it was written somewhere, would have made it easier for him to repeat the words out loud, that was something Trevor was good at. He didn't really talk, had a hard time finding the right words at the time because of some defenses he had built up as a child, but he had a gift for written words. I always thought he should write a novel or something."

McGee nodded. "I have something from his journal that I think he would have wanted you to have."

He watched her face as he opened the folder in front of him and pulled out a sheet of paper. She had a hopeful look on her face as he slid the document across the table to her.

The first line from the document played through his own head as he watched her begin reading, "_I Find myself watching her and wondering why it is that I just can't tell her everything."_

He watched her read through the journal entry, feeling her hand tighten against his a few times as she read, tears falling silently onto the page.

As she finished she looked up at him and smiled, "That stupid man," she said, but she had no mirth in her voice, actually saying the words with a hint of wonder and a weak smile. "I wouldn't have let him run me off, he should have known me better then that."

"Childhood pain can cause lasting psychological impacts."

"I know." she smiled at his effort to console her and defend her friend. "I don't hold it against him. I knew who he was when I fell in love with him. Knew it could be never, but was willing to wait." She sniffled, wiping her tears away again, her eyes finally dry. "I should have told him how I felt. He's not the only one who was scared of love."

She looked him directly in the eyes, "Fear of losing someone should not hold you back until you actually lose them. Take that away from this, Agent McGee." she said, gesturing to the paper and herself.

Tim cursed in his head, his sappy little floppy heart was dangling on his sleeve again and even through her grief the woman could see it and she was consoling him. That was quite the turn of events.

"Don't let time slip away from you, too." She patted his hand where it held hers and nodded at the page on the table in front of her. "Could I get a copy of this?"

"Keep it."

Her smile this time went all the way to her eyes.

There was really nothing left to say, but the two made small talk, McGee allowing her some time to compose herself.

Gibbs was in the hall when they walked out.

The two men lead Teresa to the elevator where she pulled Tim into a quick hug, "Thank you."

Fresh tears brimmed in her eyes, the lump back in McGee's throat as the elevator doors closed her inside, the lieutenant's journal entry grasped tightly in her had.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Chapter 8.2, fixed for grammar/spelling, but content remains the same (mostly, slight change in the second to last paragraph, nothing significant. Thanks to pirate-princess1 for the suggestion and for helping me stay more in character.) The lesson here is that I shouldn't edit while watching the new episode of Castle, because I do a really bad job of it.

Chapter 8

Gibbs had just spoken to Ziva, she and Tony were unable to reach Dominic Morgan's friends via phone. They were on their way to the addresses where each boy lived according to the information Angie Morgan had provided.

"McGee, get a BOLO out on that Dodge Stratus." he said as he closed his phone. "Both here and in Miami."

"On it, Boss." McGee said, his fingers flying quickly over the keyboard.

That always amazed Gibbs, the way the young agent's hands seem to move so lightning quick over the keys and he never even looked his fingers them.

If he were sending out the BOLO himself it would take 15 minutes just to type the information in, but a few seconds later McGee was done and ready for his next task.

Gibbs passed on the information on Dominic Morgan's friends and McGee went to work digging into their histories. Gibbs knew his limits, technology and he were not friends, it was no big secret, but that didn't make it any easier to swallow. Detective work had transitioned to a whole lot of working on computers and not nearly as much actual leg work, like the kind that required a person to use their legs and walk around gathering facts and clues.

This was the time in a case where he knew it was vital to have a quick coffee break.

Back a few minutes later with 2 cups, Gibbs set a coffee on Tim's desk and pulled a handful of sugar packets from his pocket, laying them next to the cup. "I'm not ruining coffee for you, you can do that yourself."

McGee gave him a self conscious little smile as he popped the lid off and started to poor the packets inside.

Every packet in that tiny mountain of little white envelopes ended up in his cup, and Gibbs couldn't stop the disgusted shiver that ran up his spine as he watched McGee swirl the sugar with the tiny straws and sip his drink. "Mmm, thanks, Boss."

Pulling his eyes away from the sugary mess that was now his agent's coffee Gibbs asked, "Got anything?"

"I was able to pull up a record on Kyle Rodriguez." McGee clicked the plasma screen to a mug shot of a young Hispanic boy. "He was busted for grand theft auto at age 14, served 6 months and is on parole until he turns 18. He hasn't had any reported parole violations and no other brushes with the law."

"Anything on Jake Boyle?"

"Nothing yet. I'm working on family histories for both."

Gibbs turned back to the Plasma, noting just how young this boy looked. What inspires children to act out in this way?

"Uh, Boss? I got a hit on the BOLO. The Dodge Stratus was towed from. . ."

McGee click his mouse and typed a few things before continuing "a 30 minute parking spot near the Lincoln Memorial."

"Call the tow yard, tell them we're on our way, I'll let Abby know she got some evidence coming into the evidence garage and meet you in the parking garage."

McGee nodded and picked up his phone to make the call as Gibbs left the bull pen headed for the elevators.

This was more like it, actual work, something to look at, something he could physically touch and hold.

After what should have been a quick stop to give Abby a heads up about the evidence coming in and have her get started pulling tapes from that particular area of town to see if they could get a shot of whoever had dropped the car there, Gibbs headed down to meet McGee.

Gibbs let him drive, the boy rarely ever got to. Tony said McGee drove like a grandma and after about 5 minutes of McGee's cautious driving, Gibbs would have to give this one to his senior field agent.

Gibbs would rather be driving McGee's 5 mile an hour under the speed limit, then breaking 100 through city streets with him all worked up behind the wheel.

Abby had not been pleased when she heard they were on their way out to pick up the Stratus. "You have to be on a plane in two and a half hours, Gibbs." Her voice was stern, making Gibbs wonder who she thought was the boss in this whole mess.

"And there will be other planes."

"But, Gibbs…" the stern was gone and she was now considering him with open disbelief.

"Not up for debate, Abs. The car still being here could mean the killer is, too."

"But what if he's not?"

"And what if we leave without checking it out and he is still here?"

"But what if he's not?" she asked again, this time he noted the defiance in the tilt of her head as she crossed her arms and waited for an answer.

Gibbs couldn't stop his mind from instantly rushing back to Kelly at 7 years old with, pig tails in her hair, eyes full of that same defiance as she stared down a bully in their front yard.

She had been playing in the front yard with a neighbor boy named Luke, a young kid who was small for his age and a favorite target of one of the older neighborhood girls.

The older girl had ridden up on her bike and started riding in a circle around the two younger kids singing, "Luke-y, Puke-y, you're so sucky!"

Kelly stood up, crossed her arms and glared at the older girl, while she taunted and teased Kelly's friend. After staring down the older girl for several long seconds Kelly stuck her tongue out at the girl and turned back to her friend with a big smile. "Let's see if my dad wants to get us a snack inside. I bet he's got some Oreos." She called over her shoulder as they walked towards the house, "Oh, and that doesn't even rhyme." and then she had laughed.

"Shut Up, Smelly Kelly!" the bully had said with a nasty tone, throwing her bike to the ground, definitely not pleased with how the younger girl was talking to her.

Gibbs had watched the older girl glaring angrily from the sidewalk while Kelly and Luke came towards the house, ready to rush out and break up a fight if it started. "That's a little better," Kelly called as they continued to the house, "Keep practicing, eventually you'll have no friends."

He'd been so proud of her for sticking up for her friend, no matter how much worry it caused him thinking that other girl might get angry enough to hurt his little girl. Looking back, bullies were actually a very minor thing to be worried over.

Gibbs realized suddenly he had just been standing in Abby's lab as the woman stared at him.

"This conversation is over." he said with a little more intensity then he intended, mind still reeling.

He turned abruptly and stalked out and for the first time in a very long time left Abby speechless and angry behind him.

xoxo

"I bet this is more your cup of coffee." Ziva said, looking out the passenger window as they passed large estates and towering mansions.

"Cup of tea." Tony corrected, looking wistfully out the window. "Not really, had enough of big empty houses growing up."

"Tea, coffee, what's the difference? So, where then?"

He glanced at her for a second an eyebrow raised, not following her.

"Are you just content to be an apartment person for life?" she didn't give him a chance to answer as she continued, "Because if you really think about it apartments are really no different then those 'cardboard cut out' houses."

Tony's jaw dropped in mock disbelief, "Take it back." he hissed.

"I will not."

"It's totally different."

"I do not see how that is. They are all the same, one after another. None is distinct from the next. You have rules and regulations about what you can and can not do." She grinned smugly as she watched the wheels spinning in his head.

Tony shook the thoughts out of his head, "It's different." he wasn't sure if he was trying to convince her or himself. Oh, banish the thought! "In an apartment you don't spend your days coveting your neighbors boat or grass or family. Heck, you never see your neighbors unless you happen to come or go at the same time or say hi in the elevator."

"And that is better then the suburbs, how?"

"I have no problem with suburbs, just those track houses where everything looks the same." his face became contemplative as he continued, "I wouldn't mind living in one of those suburbs near DC with the old houses. I can almost see it now. An old Victorian style house with a little wrap around porch. 3 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, playing football in the front yard with my boy, the girls watching and cheering for us." He sighed, "Oh well, perhaps in my next life."

"Wait, how do they say, remind the tape?"

"Rewind. Rewind what?"

"You have never mentioned aspirations of family and children." her eyes drifted to the roof of the car, staring blankly as if trying to remember something, "Other then talk of your 'little DiNozzo makers', but I always figured that had more to do with your concern over losing your prowess then any desire to actually spread your genetic material around."

Tony just shrugged, "Everybody thinks about that kind of thing. Getting a little old for following through on it, though."

"Guys can have perfectly healthy kids into their sixties, provided the female is young and healthy."

"Really not the mental image I needed right there, Ziva." he laughed as he shook his head. "What about you?"

It was her turn to shrug at the question, she wasn't going to answer, but he had, so slowly she began speaking and really, it was not that hard. "I guess it has crossed my mind once or twice. In Israel, I thought about how awful it would be to raise a child the way I was raised."

"Don't have to be from Israel to have that concern." Tony added.

She smiled at him, then shifted her gaze to look out the window again, "I never thought about it positively until coming to America. Sometimes I wonder how it would feel to watch my daughter grow, braid her hair like I used to do for my sister, but then I think of how I am the last 'vessel' that could bear an heir to my father's legacy and then I am OK without having a family of my own. I have a dangerous job, anyway and very little time for a social life, so. . ." she turned her head back toward him as she trailed off. "Besides, I have Abby if I ever need a dose of childlike glee." She added the last part with a forced smile, obviously trying to get out of the uncomfortable conversation.

"Yeah, and we have McGee, too."

"I think he has your ears, no?"

Tony smiled at the ridiculousness of it all as they assigned traits for Abby and McGee to each other, laughing and joking until he turned up the long driveway that lead to the sprawling mansion where Jake Boyle lived with his parents.

Dominic Morgan had not been at Kyle Rodriguez's house, where they had stopped before grabbing lunch. This time, however, they didn't need to knock on the door to find out from the staff whether the teens were there; the three boys were gathered around the open hood of a '68 Mustang, loud rap music filtered out of the open garage door.

"Love the car." Tony said loudly over the music as a greeting. When the boys turned, he and Ziva presented their credentials, "Special Agents DiNozzo and David, NCIS."

Jake reached up onto the roof and turned down the radio, "What do ya need?" the boy asked, his words strung together so quickly that they almost sounded like a single word.

"We were actually hoping to have a word with Dominic?" Ziva questioned.

"Damn girl, you can have more then words with me." Kyle spoke up from the other side of the car, letting his eyes wander lasciviously down her body and back up.

Tony was tempted to put the boy in his place, but before he could, Ziva had moved around the car, suddenly standing very close to the young man.

She swept her eyes down and back up as he had done to her, then shrugged with a bored expression on her face, "I prefer my men to be a little less. . . how do you say? Child-like."

Tony watched the rage boil behind the young man's eyes as Ziva dismissed him, turning back toward Dominic.

The interview was tense, but uneventful. As they drove back towards the hotel Ziva made an observation. "Dominic did not seem too upset about Lieutenant Macey."

"I don't know how much I would read into that, Ziva. He's a teenage boy hanging out with his friends in the masculine environment of car repair, I would have been surprised to see him break down at all."

"You do not think his reaction is odd?"

"Perhaps a little, but all teenagers are odd."

"So you would do what? Send your kids off to a boarding school or something once they become teenagers? Perhaps a reeducation camp?"

Tony just looked at her a moment, almost confused before turning his focus back to the road. "Did you really just ask me that?"

Ziva's eyes opened just a fraction wider as she realized what she had said. "I did not mean anything by that." she sat there a moment, playing with the hem of her shirt and not meeting his eyes, "I do not think you are anything like your father."

Tony watched her clamp her mouth closed as she fidgeted in the seat next to him. He let the silence hang in the car for almost a full minute before he couldn't keep a straight face and chuckled, breaking out his full DiNozzo smile, "I know. I just like to watch you squirm."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

McGee was glad to be back at his desk. The car had been wiped clean, there were no prints, and it looked as if it had been recently vacuumed. As frustrating as it was for them to come away nearly empty handed, McGee was sure if there was a single shred of evidence in that car, Abby would find it.

It had been an exhausting and confusing two days. He was constantly looking over his shoulder, wondering when the next shoe was going to drop.

The past two days had left him wondering if there was something going on that everybody was in on, but he was either excluded from or just not getting it. First Tony spent nearly a whole day being nice to him, then Gibbs goes on calling him Tim and bringing him coffee and to top it off, something was up with Abby, too.

When they had arrived just behind the tow truck delivering her evidence, Abby had none of her standard reactions to new evidence. There was no excited chattering, no bouncing around the vehicle to determine the best place to start.

She was ready in her coveralls when they walked in. Slipping rubber gloves on her hands and popping the trunk, she turned to her work without a word to either of them.

"Everything alright, Abby?" he had asked.

"Not now, Tim. I'm busy." she said, intently working through the trunk with tweezers and evidence bags.

Tim looked over his shoulder to Gibbs who was signing the car into evidence, before he walked up behind Abby and put a hand on her shoulder. She turned to him and he saw the redness around her eyes, she had been crying, but what was there for her to be so upset about?

"Is there anything I can do?"

"I said not now, McGee." the tone of her voice as she made a point to use his last name instead of his first caused him to drop his hand instantly as effective as if she had physically pushed him away.

He looked at his shoes for a moment, then shuffled towards the elevator calling over to Gibbs, "I'm going to go and check on the searches I'm running at my desk."

Oh yeah, nothing like a random mental tangent down misery-lane reminiscence to remind him why he'd come upstairs, or at least why he'd said he was coming up.

McGee turned to his computer, going through files and records that had come back from his various searches. After several minutes of scouring through computer files and public records McGee's blood ran suddenly cold. He pulled up the flight schedule, they had just missed their plane. He changed the tickets over to the next available flight, sending the info to his phone so he could confirm the tickets after convincing Gibbs that they needed to be in Miami with Ziva and DiNozzo.

McGee sent the other documents to his iPhone as well and bolted for the elevator.

The elevator doors opened on the evidence garage and McGee was surprised to see it had been vacated. When he had been here a few minutes earlier there were half a dozen more people working on various projects throughout the room.

And then it all clicked when he saw Abby and Gibbs staring each other down on the other side of the Stratus. He had been on the receiving end from both of them. He knew first hand that the two going at each other would have been enough to drive anyone out of the large room, though he would have given just about anything to be there for the showdown.

What the hell was Abby having a showdown with Gibbs over? He cast the thoughts aside as he considered Tony and Ziva and the new found evidence on his phone.

"Boss?" his voice sounded sheepish, even in his own head. Both sets of angry eyes turned on him in an instant. Man, up. He told himself, but the words didn't form.

"What do you got, McGee?"

He couldn't completely quell the inherent cringe that he experienced at the tone Gibbs used to ask, but he pushed on rather then stand there in awkward silence. Pulling his phone out he laid it on the table between the two and started recapping what he'd come across moments before, occassionally tapping at the screen to change the image or document.

"Kyle Rodriguez has an older brother, Tyson Rodriguez, who is doing some time in prison right now on possession with intent to distribute charges, his father is under investigation by both the ATF and the FBI, I couldn't get much, but it seems to come back to drugs there as well, however they have several open cases, but are unable to get any of them to stick."

McGee changed documents again, knowing Gibbs probably couldn't see a thing on his phone screen, but going through the motions more for calming, routine, and Abby then for his boss.

"Dominic's other friend, Jake Boyle, has no criminal record, but has had an interesting year."

Gibbs got that impatient look that told Tim to stop telling a story and give him the facts, but McGee continued without wavering, "12 months ago, Jake was an honor role student, now he is getting straight C's. He was on the school football and basketball teams but no longer participates, and get this, when he dropped everything else in his life, guess which one sport he kept up with?"

Both of the others in the room just stared at him, and stupid guy, he just stared right back? Was he actually expecting them to guess like this was some form of 20 questions? Tim shook his head and clicked over to a picture. "Boat racing."

Abby's eyes grew wide and then narrowed again as she pointed them at Gibbs, "Now will you listen to me?"

"McGee, get us on the next plane to Miami."

McGee reached around to his phoned touching the screen "Done, Boss, we should be out of here in an hour if we want to grab a few things before heading to the airport."

Gibbs nodded, reaching over and squeezing Abby's hand with just a hint of a smile before heading for the elevator. "Get that info to DiNozzo and David."

Abby gave a little excited squeal and jumped into McGee's arms. What was wrong with people this week? He wondered at the roller-coaster that seemed to be riding roughshod through his tired mind.

Twenty minutes ago Abby had been shoving him away with an angry look and now she was squeezing him so hard he thought he may stop breathing. Not that he'd ever tell Tony he was right, but in that moment, Tim knew the older agent was. Women were confusing and he didn't understand them at all.

xoxo

Tony had pulled the car up just outside the hotel, ready to head inside and get a little research done, when Ziva's phone rang, "David."

She listened for a moment as he watched her and then reached her hand over to stop him from turning off the car. Giving him directions to the marina where Jake Boyle's boat was docked and filling him in on the details McGee had given her.

"Gibbs and McGee will be here in about 3 hours."

"Should we wait for them to check this out?"

Ziva shook her head, "We know where Jake and his friends are right now, less dangerous to go while they are preoccupied then to wait and give them a chance to jump and run with the boat and whatever is on it."

"What's the plan?"

"That was McGee on the phone, he was all facts and little instruction."

"So, feeling like a stroll on a pier this fun spring afternoon? Oops if we happen across something while we're their."

It only took about 10 minutes to get to the Marina, where Tony made quick work of finding a parking spot. They strolled, seemingly casually, down the dock, eyes peeled for any kind of activity as they looked for the slip number where the boy's boat was docked.

"That," Tony said with a whistle of appreciation, "was not what I was expecting."

"This is a race boat?" Ziva asked, her brow furrowed trying to connect the facts with the large structure in front of her.

"That is a race yacht." he corrected.

The plank was down, but they had noted no activity indicating anyone was on or near the boat since they had arrived. "Looks like someone may have broken in." she said quietly, popping the snap securing her gun and resting her hand there, ready to pull it on a seconds notice.

Tony took her lead, following suit and added, "We had better check it out, could be a burglary."

And the issue of probable cause was solved, in their heads at least. A lawyer would probably have a field day with it. If they discovered anything they would just have to leave it be and keep watch until Gibbs could get down here, rustle up a warrant and intimidate a confession out of the young man.

The two agents stepped onto the gently rocking deck of the boat, pulling their weapons and communicating silently as they quickly swept the top side to make sure no one was there. Tony started down the narrow stair way first, descending into the darkness of the lower deck. The stairs came down to nearly the middle of the boat and at the bottom they broke off, Ziva heading towards the bow while Tony took the Stern side.

Tony quickly swept the single room that looked like it had probably been designed as a bedroom, but converted to some kind of dining area with a large table and a few chairs scattered around. "Clear!" he called and heard her call the same a moment later.

Holstering his weapon he began to take in the room a little more closely, the equipment, the supplies, that fine dust across the table, was that what he thought it was? Tony reached out a gloved finger, swiping across the surface before touching just the tip of his tongue to his finger. "Cocaine." he said to himself as he pulled the gloves off, tucking them back in his pocket and crossing the ship to tell Ziva they were going to need to get that warrant for sure.

He walked through the doorway talking, "Found some Coke on a table in the. . ." he stopped suddenly, staring at her.

Ziva was hunched over something on the floor, he could tell she was tense, but was doing that ninja mind trick where she focused her breathing and remained calm despite whatever the hell the stresser was that had set her shoulders so firmly. He couldn't see what she was doing with her body blocking the way so he walked right up next to her.

She was reaching her hands into a secret compartment, a two foot by two foot hole in the middle of the floor that had probably been covered with that board leaning against the wall over there.

He still couldn't see what she was doing so he crossed to the other side to get a view around her hands and stopped dead in his tracks. There, in the middle of the floor with Ziva's skillful little hands working at it was a blue oil drum with a brick of C-4 and a cell phone attached with various wires and components.

"Ziva, we need to get out of here." he couldn't hide the edge to his voice.

"It is not even activated, I can disarm this, then we go wait for Gibbs and the warrant."

He watched as she very gently adjusted a wire here or another there, looking over the handy work, trying to deduce a weakness.

She pulled one of her hands back out of the hole reaching inside the cargo pocket on her olive green pants to pull out a flash light.

She handed it to him, "Point that for me." she examined some more, "A little to the left, no, back the other way again. Yeah, that is it. That is the spot, right there."

"I love it when a woman tells me how she likes it."

She smirked at him, and then all seriousness went back to the work at hand.

"Next time try saying it a little huskier."

"Tony," he voice was low and wispy.

"Yeah, like that."

"Tony!" she said more forcefully to get his attention this time and he snapped back to the seriousness at hand. Ziva held out a hand to him, "Your knife? Mine is too big."

Before Tony could reach for the knife on his belt or think of a cunning remark to the "mine is bigger then yours is" conversation Ziva had accidentally fumbled into, the small compartment lit with a blue glow that was definitely not from the flashlight in his hands and the phone inside trilled a whimsical tune.

Tony only had a second to wonder, _If I die now is that song going to be stuck in my head for all eternity?_


	10. Chapter 10

Gibbs was sitting at his desk, surrounded by empty desks with a coffee in hand staring at the Caf-Pow! he had set on the corner of his desk when he came in. He had sent Tim home to pack; everything he needed was in his go bag in the trunk of his car.

He considered going home and packing a few extra things. If this took more then a couple of days, Abby would usually swing by his house, throw whatever he needed in a box and ship it to him overnight mail. She always threw in a few extra things he hadn't asked for but that gave him a smile upon seeing them: home made cookies, mosquito repellent, single coffee pot sized servings of his favorite ground coffee beans.

His eyes fell again on the drink he had gotten for her, sitting neglected on the edge of the desk as he thought perhaps she wouldn't even send his clothes this time, not to mention any extra Abby touches. That's what was really bothering him.

He had gotten so used to Abby's big heart and kind gestures that it wasn't until days like today, when he thought she was overreacting in the other direction that he really thought about the fact that under all her covers of fun clothes and a boisterous spirit, she had her own issues just like everybody else.

He had snapped in the garage, he hadn't meant to, in fact had been working on trying to diffuse the situation when he just yelled at her instead.

"You never listen to me." She had pouted when he tried to follow McGee to the elevators.

"Seriously, Abby? We don't have time for this."

"You have all the time in the world to chase down abandoned cars while Tony and Ziva go after a cartel in another state by themselves."

"You know Tony and Ziva can take care of themselves, so what is this really about?"

She just looked up at him and he avoided her gaze, she was giving him that sad little broken look again and he'd never get to the bottom of whatever was bothering her if he looked into her pleading eyes just then.

"What's wrong with you? Spit it out!" he hollered, his frustration mounting. The people around them started filing out as they seemed to all decide their work was done at exactly that same moment.

"What's wrong with me?" she yelled back at him, he'd never seen her so pissed. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

He just glared at her, so she continued, "You walk around here as if you know everything and you don't need any input from anybody else. Well, let me tell you something, Mister. I am a scientist, I deal in Facts. Facts you don't want to hear so you've been giving me the brush off all day!"

"For a scientist, you're acting completely irrational."

Gibbs mentally corrected his thought from a moment before as her watched her face turn red in frustration, now he had never seen Abby so pissed. "Irrational? Would you listen to yourself? Is it because I'm a woman I can't have a gut feeling that something's not right? You're the only one allowed to have them?"

He cocked his head to the side, considering her pointedly. From the anger that flashed through her eyes, she must have taken that as him agreeing with her.

"Abby, you have gut feelings all the time." He tried to keep his voice calm, attempting to diffuse the situation.

"Really? When was the last time I had a gut feeling I wanted you to do something about?"

He really couldn't remember, "It's pretty frequent, isn't it?"

Abby shook her head so hard that one of her pig tails slapped her across the face. "Three times, Gibbs. Just three times I've had this hinky feeling and come to you. Three times."

Gibbs had looked at her blankly, not following her train of thought, so Abby had made it very clear to him and as she counted the three times off on her fingers, he remembered her coming to him each time.

"When you left Ziva in Israel." first finger, "Director Sheppard," second finger, "and Kate."

"Are you saying those are all my fault for not listening to your 'hinky feeling'?" he never would have believed he was capable of directing such heated anger towards her from the intensity of the wave of guilt that settled over him in an instant.

"I'm saying," she spoke slowly in a low angry tone, her voice wavered only slightly with the emotions and heightened adrenaline of the situation. "If anything happens this time, it will be."

They stood there glaring at each other until Tim had come down the elevator.

Gibbs suddenly stood up, snatched the Caf-Pow! off his desk and was back in the evidence garage holding the large cup out to Abby as quickly as the elevator would bring him down there.

Abby almost knocked the Caf-Pow! out of his hand, attacking him with a fierce hug as soon as she spotted him.

"I'm so sorry, Gibbs. You're right I was being irrational. I got scared and wigged out and I don't really know what all that was about, I'm just scared and I can't put my finger on it and it's driving me crazy."

He cut her off with a kiss on the top of her head, moving her away from him enough to hand her the drink. "It's okay, Abs."

"You're not mad, are you?"

Gibbs couldn't help the tiny sheepish smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth, "I was just hoping you weren't mad at me. I was a little out of line."

"A little?" she asked, giggling when he shrugged. Abby took a sip with a big grin, moving back towards the car and her work.

xoxo

* * *the small compartment lit with a blue glow that was definitely not from the flashlight in his hands and the phone inside trilled a whimsical tune.

Tony only had a second to wonder, _If I die now is that song going to be stuck in my head for all eternity?* * *_

The trilling phone caused them both to flinch at the same time. Eyes as wide as saucers, Ziva instantly pulled her hands out of the little hole in the ground.

Tony squeezed his eyes shut tightly, as if that action would protect him from the force of whatever was exploding in his face, knowing this was the end.

When the ringing stopped a short moment later and he was still breathing he cautiously opened one of his eyes and looked back down at the phone.

_Security Lock Initiated _blinked across the screen with a 10-key pad glowing up at them from the touch screen just below the security warning.

They both let out the breaths they had been holding and Tony chuckled nervously. "Perhaps we should, you know, get the hell out of here."

"I can do this, Tony." her voice wavered and she avoided his gaze, staring into the hole.

He was sure that she had been just as scared as him that this was actually the end of them, as just as surprised as he was that they were still alive. Even alive right this second, Tony knew he wouldn't feel relieved until he got away from this boat and it's dangerous hidden cargo.

"I know you can, Ziva, it's just that I don't think I can." his voice broke a little, surprising him by revealing the emotion racing through his viens. "My bladder won't hold through another scare like that and this is a new suit." he gave her a crooked smile, it was a weak stab at humor, but he didn't expect much of himself at that moment.

They were both staring into the hole breathing heavily from the sudden rush of adrenaline when the face on the phone blinked rapidly and was replaced with a ten-second countdown.

They locked eyes over the menacing C-4 detonator attached atop that large blue steel drum. With the timer already starting to count down what could be the last 10 seconds of their lives, Tony saw the hesitation in her eyes and his heart leapt into his throat.

He grabbed her hand, not giving her a choice to make as he pulled her to her feet dragging her for the door they had come in through a few minutes prior. She finally clicked into gear as they reached the stairs.

He pushed her ahead of him, both taking the stairs two at a time. She made it on deck before him and took off at a full run headed for the bow of the boat, the furthest spot they could get to away from the menacing oil drum explosive.

They had no time to make it to the plank and they knew there was no safety from the heat and debris of an explosion on the pier, both knowing without saying that the only option was to jump. They had to be quick, according to Ziva's internal count they only had 3 seconds left and were several strides from the railing.

She was fast, but his legs were longer and he caught up with her a split second before they reached the railing at the bow of the boat, both knowing there was no time left on the clock and they jumped in unison towards the safety the water provided.

Just as their feet left the wooden planks at the bow of the boat Tony had the sudden thought of, _wonder if it's a dud this time, too_ and nearly missed the jump over the short railing as the stern lit up with a great ball of fire, splintering the boat in all directions.

The concussion of the explosion was deafening. The shock wave blasted their jumping figures further then an Olympic triple jump champion and Tony remembered feeling the intense heat of the explosion a moment before he registered the pieces of the boat slamming into his body.

As he hit the water with a painful, very ungraceful splash he felt a large hunk of wood smack across the back of his head. A few moments later, disoriented and searching for the surface of the water, he was grateful as each of his limbs began working together, still attached and functioning. His head finally broke the surface of the water and he gasped in huge lung-fulls of air as he instinctively began to tread water.

Tony felt the lapping of the waves, steadying from the concussion of the blast and turned his head desperate to find where Ziva had ended up.

The movement caused waves of nausea and the feeling that the world had started spinning out of control. His mind went blank with the pain, forgetting whatever it was he had been trying to do that was so painful.

He suddenly thought that it was as if the hand of God had given him a forceful push out and away from the crushing force and heat of the blast. Once he had reached safety he'd been violently Gibbs slapped, probably for his earlier hesitation on deck just before he jumped that was very nearly the end of him.

Apparently, God didn't mess around with the Gibbs slap, that hurt like a bitch. Not good, he wasn't even making sense in his own head at the moment and the absurdity of his line of thought made him laugh.

The heat from the still burning wreckage on the side of his face made the cold waters of spring not seem so bad and the smoke rising would be a definite signal to attract attention.

Back up would be there any minute.

_Perhaps I could just rest here a moment. _He thought as his body felt suddenly heavy and his eyes slowly drifted closed.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Abby had brought the evidence from the car back up to her lab, Gibbs was her silent shadow the whole way up under the guise of helping her carry what she had collected.

She knew, as much as the Caf-Pow! he had presented to her, this offer of help was a silent apology. Gibbs didn't say sorry, sign of weakness and all, she knew that, but she also knew the man.

The silent hovering after an argument was his apology for what he saw as stepping out of line, but this time there was some kind of a weird Jekyll/Hyde thing going on.

This was the type of behavior he had those few times he'd been worried that someone was going to hurt her, the weird part this time is he seemed to be hovering with an equally powerful desire to leave as if he'd convinced himself that he needed to protect her from himself.

So he was doing the hovering over-protective father-figure thing he sometimes did with an undercurrent of eyes slightly wide, looking for an exit should his mouth get out of control again.

She had worked closely with him for too long not to catch his subtle cues. That little quirk of his mouth with an eyebrow slightly raised that told her he knew he'd been an ass and begged her not to hate him. That little shrug as he turned away that projected his inner struggle with issues of personal guilt.

The sudden recollection of what she had said to him made her cringe. She knew he had deep-seeded guilt issues concerning Kate and Jenny and leaving Ziva in Israel, but she had thrown it in his face because she couldn't put words to her own fears.

As her eyes misted over she thought that it was fortunate she had her back to the man now as she compared hair collected from the trunk to hair of their victims in a microscope. On the same token, finally taking her eyes from him where she didn't have to keep a straight face so she didn't do any further damage then she already had by saying something else out of frustration.

Seeing the look on his face earlier when he had made the connection between her words and his self doubt and inner struggle with guilt, thinking that she had been calling him out shook her. It was the briefest second, a simple flash of emotion that seemed to transition in a split second through pain, angst, guilt, was that fear?, eventually settling on anger as their verbal exchange had exploded.

She knew he was watching her stare far too long into a microscope and wondering whether she was ignoring him out of residual anger, but she couldn't make herself turn around.

She heard him get up and move towards the door and she took a deep breath as she reached to the counter and hit a button on the remote there.

"Abby, unlock the door." Gibbs said tiredly as he tried to leave.

"Seriously, Gibbs, tell me what's going on with you." she didn't look up from the microscope, "I told you that my hinky feeling was driving my side of the outburst, I just want to know what was driving yours."

He knew she was sulking, despite her earlier reassurances he was sure she was not completely over what had been said in the evidence garage. He knew she needed an explanation beyond that he was just being an ass, but he didn't know how to give it to her.

He had thought about it on the way up and he sat there watching her with her shoulders set and rigid as she stared into the microscope but was obviously not able to focus. He knew he owed her something. They had been through a lot together and aside from Ducky she was his closest friend. The kind of friend, unlike Duck, who wouldn't psycho-analyze him after a conversation.

He knew she hadn't meant anything malicious by her comments early, she was simply stating facts that she thought would convince him to see things her way, but he'd let it get to him. After so many years together, he knew hers was a gentle heart, one that wounded easily and was long to heal.

"You got anything I can do with my hand, Abs?"

She nodded, understanding in her eyes, and showed him how to sort and organize the samples to get them ready for testing. She passed him a spare lab coat, set a box of rubber gloves on the table and turned back to her work, knowing that would help alleviate the pressure. "Sorry, I don't have any bourbon."

He chuckled weakly, "It's alright." he said as he put on the white coat and a pair of gloves, working silently for several minutes. "It's this case, I let it get under my skin." She watched him surreptitiously through the reflexion on the darkened computer screen as he fidgeted and fell silent for a few more minutes.

She had actually begun to think he was going to call it quits with just that when he began again.

"I've been thinking about Shannon and Kelly a lot." He was not used to baring his soul, but he knew Abby needed an explanation, some reassurance; more then he needed to keep everything all bottled up inside where it was safe. Despite his reservations, he pushed on.

"It's partly this case and all the talk of families lost. But it's more then that, as sad as it to lose a man like Trevor Macey, it's watching all of you. It's sending Ziva and Tony off half cocked, no matter how competent I know they are. It's watching you worry over them and making you cry." he paused a moment before continuing, "Tim has really been worrying me."

She cut him off suddenly, surprising even herself, because Gibbs never got talking like this, and she just jumped in and interrupted his flow, "What about Tim?"

Gibbs shook his head as if he wasn't about to tell her a thing, but she turned and he saw the red rimmed eyes, the smudged mascara and the concern evident in her expression.

He sighed, will power gone. She cared a lot about his youngest field agent, he knew that, you'd have to be blind not to see how close those two were. At the same time, he knew that he really shouldn't be sharing his opinions and observations with another person when he couldn't even discuss it with Tim to his face.

He decided on taking the cowards way out, by telling Abby, knowing that she'd discuss things with his younger agent and save him from another uncomfortable conversation.

He slowly explained his concerns for his young agent's emotional state surrounding the case, his seeming attachment to the dead lieutenant through his journal, the meeting with lieutenant Macey's love interest and his general disregard for consulting Gibbs in matters of the case before making his own decisions, calling meetings, scheduling flights..

She stared at him as he haltingly poured out his concerns for McGee and then each of his agents in turn, and when he was done he stopped staring at the table and stilled his hands from their work, looking her straight in the eye, "And I'm tired, Abby. Your enthusiasm is usually the ray of sunshine that keeps me up and going. Without that I've been feeling old and worn down."

She thought he was done and moved around the table embracing him in a comforting hug, "You reminded me of Kelly today." he whispered suddenly. "I don't deal with all this touchy-feely talking things out crap very well and so instead yelled at you. It was wrong and it wasn't your fault and it kills me that I made you cry."

Silent tears had started running down her face, crying for Gibbs, for his family, for their little NCIS family. As he rubbed her back comfortingly, she hit the button to unlock the door to the lab.

That was the greatest, sweetest most amazing heart-to-heart she and Gibbs had ever had. She was in slight shock at the events of the last several minutes when he said, "I think, Kelly would have been a lot like you."

Abby was sobbing openly now, mind rushing with a million thoughts she wouldn't say. Not only did she know her overactive tongue would ruin this moment that she was carefully cataloging in her brain to pull out and remember the next time Gibbs was brooding silently, but also because she could sense that he was done, drained, and didn't want to talk about it anymore.

Feeling vindicated, she had always known there were serious thoughts hidden away right there in his head, but unlike her the personal things he thought stayed in his head where as everything she thought came right out of her mouth, rarely even filtered for logic or continuity.

Her commitment to silence lasted a little over 60 seconds, then she felt her resolve collapse and she started rambling incessantly as she turned back to the work at hand, sure to get them away from the current conversation and onto a safe topic, the case.

xoxo

McGee had placed his duffel bag on his desk and went through the tapes from the area where the car had been abandoned.

Not that he didn't believe Abby that there wasn't any clean shots of the suspect's face, but more to study the way that he moved so if they happened across something while they were in Miami perhaps it would click. Having found the unfocused, grainy, or distant shots from various cameras less then helpful, McGee headed in search of Abby, knowing she'd want a hug and a promise to return safely before they left for the airport.

Checking his watch again as the elevators opened on the Evidence garage he noted she was not there, so must have finished up. He started up to her lab and for the second time in as many hours, Tim found Abby and Gibbs in an unusual situation.

Abby was talking excitedly about anything and everything, that wasn't new, but Gibbs was sporting a lab coat, sorting evidence silently at Abby's large stainless steel table. Gibbs looked exhausted and had an expression on his face that McGee couldn't place and had never seen before.

Where not so long ago, they had been pissed at each other, looking as though each might tear the others face off at any second, now a calm seemed to have settled on Gibbs and Abby, well as much of a calm as can settle over a room with Abby in it.

There was no secret that she was hyperactive in the extreme. It was something that would be annoying on just about any other person, but on her was one of her most endearing traits.

Abby spotted him, he knew from the excited squeal, "Timmy!" as she bounded towards him and wrapped him in a huge hug. When she released him he realized her hand was out to Gibbs who passed over the white jacket he had been wearing.

Gibbs planted a gentle kiss on her cheek and let her know that they would all be home soon.

As soon as Gibbs was out the door Abby turned to him with wide puppy eyes.

That look had always made him nervous. She knew something, not sure what it was, but she was ready to have a heartfelt conversation with him and he found himself at a loss.

His wariness grew as she began going on and on about Lieutenant Macey and Teresa, and then he finally gets it, she's trying to console him about a hurt she could obviously see in him over the past two days.

He kicks himself for being such a softy, but when she pulls him into a gentle non-crushing hug and runs a hand through his hair to comfort him, he suddenly doesn't care that he's probably more transparent then any NCIS agent in the history of NCIS agents.

xoxo

As Gibbs heads out of the lab he can't help the little smile that tugs at his lips. Sorry for your luck Tim he thinks as he remembers the tender look Abby gave him as Gibbs swept out of the room.

That girl's ability to get men to spill their guts was unmatched by even his most persistent wives, but surprisingly he felt as if a tremendous weight had been lifted from him.

As he rode the elevator up, he thought perhaps there was something to this talking things out, thing.

Sitting at his desk a few minutes later after having gotten all his things together, he thought perhaps it would be good to get a status update from Tony and Ziva.

He dialed Tony's number and waited. After several rings he heard, "This is Tony, I can't get to the phone right now. If I don't know you, leave a message, otherwise, that's why they invented Caller ID."

Gibbs wondered absently when Tony had changed his voice mail greeting and made a mental note to give him a good head-slapping for having such an unprofessional greeting.

Shrugging it off as Tony probably having left his phone in the car, he dialed Ziva's number. Four rings followed by, "You've reached Ziva David. Please leave a message." Her greeting was just like his agent, straight forward and to the point.

He had ignored his gut at Tony not answering, but both of them? His gut churned telling him this is wrong, knowing that if anything happened to them, especially after that conversation with Abby, there wouldn't be enough bourbon in the world to drown this guilt.

He grabbed his bag and McGee's duffel off his desk as he tried repeatedly to reach each agent on his way back down to Abby's lab, wondering the whole way how he was going to tell her that he couldn't reach the two agents she had been begging him to protect.

xoxo

A/N: Sorry for taking 2 days instead of getting something up for you yesterday, apparently working full time, being a parent, and writing until all hours of the night, then getting 5 hours of sleep and doing it over again will take a toll on your immune system... Who'd've thunk it?

Sick two times in less then two weeks. Perhaps it is a sign that I need to slow down, but no work again until Monday, so I'll try to get as much updating done as possible.

Sorry about taking Gibbs into seriously uncharted territory, but, really the whole story was inspired but the boat scene, the rest is fabricated from mid-air by my sub-conscience, spur of the moment, written in usually one or two sittings per chapter. Let me know what you think. I should have another update tomorrow 10/9 since I'm sure you're all worried about whether I let Tony and Ziva drown in the Atlantis Ocean... Thanks for reading.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 11

Tim pulled away from Abby's comforting embrace, but she left her hand on the nape of his neck, fingers gently toying with the short hairs there.

Tim looked into her eyes, leaning his forehead against hers. His hand came up to her face, his thumb rubbing gently across her cheekbone just under her eye, "You've been crying." It wasn't a question, she didn't respond they just stood there for a long moment.

McGee dropped his hand immediately and took a small step back as he heard Gibbs call through the open door as he entered, "Get me a location on DiNozzo and David's cell phones."

Abby turned white as a ghost and Tim reached out a hand to steady her, sat her in a chair near the computer and went to work pulling open what he would need to track their phones.

The minutes passed in silence, until Abby finally rose on shaky legs and joined him at the computer. Her hands were shaking, so she didn't offer to help, but hovered close, feeling his reassuring warmth against her arm.

"Sorry, Boss." Tim said, as soon as the words were out of his mouth he waited for the 'sign of weakness' lecture at the slip of his tongue. It never came and he continued, "Their phones must be switched off." he added.

He felt Abby's hand latch onto his forearm and squeeze, "They wouldn't do that." she spoke, her voice wavering as she fell back into the seat she had been in a moment before.

They stayed there in silence staring at the screen blinking 'No Signal' at them.

Suddenly, "MTAC." Abby bounded to her feet, and started for the door speaking quickly. "We can get a shot of that boat dock on the satellite."

McGee took his duffel from Gibbs as they rode the elevator up in silence.

Entering MTAC a moment later he set his bag in an empty chair and moved to an unoccupied console searching for an available satellite while Director Vance watched a military operation in progress on the screen.

McGee turned away from the large picture portraying a familiar scene of capturing a suspected terrorist on a deserted desert road. The satellite followed a suspect car until it rounded a blind corner and was overtaken by several military vehicles. The soldiers in desert camo pulled the two occupants of the car out just as McGee found a satellite that would get them a shot of their coordinates.

Abby had been leaning over McGee's shoulder. Taking a sidelong glance at her he could see she wasn't even watching the screen as he worked, but instead seemed to be taking comfort from the contact as she embraced him from behind.

His heart was pounding as adrenaline coursed through his veins and the blood pounding through his ears nearly drowned out Abby's quiet whisper, "Please not fire and water."

He looked at her strangely, and was about the ask her what she was talking about , when as soon as Vance signaled to end the transmission and the room filled with the soft glow of multiple colored bars on the giant screen, McGee forwarded the coordinates and the satellite info he had isolated to a young man sitting at another console. "I need eyes on those coordinates." he said as he and Abby joined Gibbs to stand in front of the large screen.

Gibbs was filling the director in quickly as they waited for the picture to come up on the screen.

As soon as the distant picture filled the screen, Abby gasped and fell into Tim. His arm immediately went around her shoulders and he held her as he watched the distant picture slowly zoom in.

There, just left of the middle of the screen was a long thick trail of black smoke, billowing up towards the sky.

As the technician zoomed in closer they could start seeing the details and wreckage. A boat had been, nearly literally, blown to bits. All three thought, but no one spoke, on the oddity of the boat still being afloat with so much damage as they noticed that there were boats on either side of the demolished one that had caught fire and were lending their smoke to the growing cloud of black.

Abby was crying into Tim's shoulder and Gibbs stood on the other side of him silently brooding.

A few minutes later, they all stood in the vacant space between Tony and Ziva's desks. McGee pulled the shaken Abby back into his arms and held her. He didn't feel as she reached into his suit jacket pocket and pulled out his phone, fingers on her right hand working quickly.

She pulled away from her friend, turned and pointed the phone at Gibbs, showing him there were still 3 seats available on their flight to Miami. "I'm going."

"Abs." his tone said they were not going to have this conversation. "We need you working the evidence here, finding the piece of the puzzle we're missing."

"I'm going, Gibbs." her voice broke as she pleaded with him. "The evidence here is all ready to go into the machines, you made sure of that earlier. From here it's so easy a monkey could do it. I can have the results emailed to me and we won't miss a thing. The evidence I need to get my hands on is on that boat. Palmer can run the lab while I'm gone. I need to get my hands on that evidence." she finished pointing towards MTAC.

Abby squeezed McGee's arm as she glared hard at Gibbs

Abby stood her ground and Gibbs felt his heart tugging as she gave him a look of strength while her lower lip trembled. Right now he would give anything to already be in Miami, and he knew she felt the same way. Either way, she was the best at what she did and if anyone was going to find evidence in what little was left of that ship it would be her.

He knew he would probably regret it. He may not be good with technology, but with a layman's grasp of the concept (and having just watched Tim do it earlier) he reached into her hand and touched the word 'Confirm' on the screen.

Abby flew into his arms, "You got a Go Bag?" he whispered into her hair, feeling her nod against his chest.

"Meet us at the car in 10 minutes."

Abby raced for the elevator and to her lab, and made it outside in 5 minutes. No one said a single word on the entire drive to the airport, not wanting to put voice to what they all were thinking.

xoxo

_* * *Perhaps I could just rest here a moment. _Tony thought as his body felt suddenly heavy and his eyes slowly drifted closed.* * *

Tony felt himself slipping out of consciousness as the adrenaline faded, eyes closing briefly before a sharp pain shot across his cheek, forcing his head to the side. The nausea returned with the spinning earth as his eyes snapped open and there was Ziva grabbing him by the front of his shirt her small fist wrinkling tightly clinging to the wet material.

"Did you just slap me?"

"It was necessary."

"Yeah, right," he added sarcastically, voice barely a whisper as he felt her free hand running along his shoulder inside his suit jacket.

She pushed the jacket off one shoulder, "You are being uncooperative."

"Maybe you could buy me dinner first?"

She twisted the fist that was holding him up and his shirt tightened uncomfortably around him, it was a warning, and her tone was threatening. "We need to get you out of these wet clothes."

Tony pulled his right arm out of the suit jacket, but grumbled "I saw this going differently in my mind."

Ziva didn't respond to his innuendo as she switched the hand that was holding him up so she could repeat her motions at his other shoulder, slipping his jacket off and letting the soaking wet, now very heavy garment sink into the water.

Just as she turned him away from her and pulled him flush to her body he realized she had done the same thing. Now clad in just a simple undershirt, he wondered briefly if she had ditched her pants, too. Her arm wrapping around him in a classic Baywatch rescue position. As she started swimming them both towards shore.

"I think I'm OK, now." He stated, his voice not nearly as strong as he had intended it to sound.

Tony wiggled free and began to swim towards the shore, however, his head started spinning again almost immediately.

Ziva let her stubborn partner get three strokes toward shore before she grabbed him again, stopping his movements. "I do not think I can make it that far alone." She lied gesturing towards the shore. "Could we go together?" She hated playing the damsel in distress, but she knew it was a necessary means to an end.

Tony nodded, a fresh wave of adrenaline coursing through his body at the thought that perhaps she was as damaged as he and somehow they had to work together to make it to shore or they'd both find themselves sleeping with the fishes.

Each wrapped an arm around the other, she directed them and they began to swim towards shore in earnest. From where they had jumped, the shore was definitely further then the dock, but Ziva knew going to shore soon their feet would touch ground, where if they moved towards the dock they would soon find they had to haul themselves up on the dock and she didn't think he would make it up there.

Somewhere in his muddled brain it registered that her swimming strokes were strong and even as his free arm seemed to move and flop sporadically, feet kicking with as much energy as he had, but at the same time, without the liquid grace she seemed to posses. Despite her comment of being unable to make it back to shore she was basically dragging him through the water.

Upon reaching the shallows where they could stand and walk out, Tony attempted to stand and his tired legs collapsed from under him. Ziva was there to catch him and keep them upright, and she slowed the pace, leading the other agent from the sea, one halting footstep at a time.

Once he felt the waves lapping at his knees he shook her off and sank into the water, barely registering the sand that somehow instantly made it through several layers of clothes and started to settle into all his sensitive nooks and crannies as he sat. He could no longer stand under his own power and his head was throbbing mercilessly. It was out of his hands.

Breathing heavily, Tony focused on the waves lapping at his belly as he rested. Tony laid his head against his left shoulder and watched the flames die down and black smoke continue upwards. He wasn't sure how long he sat there, but he registered movement behind him.

Tony didn't dare to turn his head for fear he would further pollute the debris filled waters with the contents of his stomach. Before he knew what was happening , Ziva had grabbed him under his arms and was slowly dragging him out of the water.

"It is too cold to just sit here."

Registering that, despite his desire to just sit and not move, she was actually making sense and he could feel that his teeth were chattering even if he could no longer actually feel the cold. According to the weather channel in their hotel room that morning the temperature was going to be nearly 70 degree, but the water had only warmed up to a teeth chattering 53 degrees. He had been bummed upon hearing that, thinking it would have been nice to go to the beach before they left, get in a swim.

Suddenly he laughed. They had managed the swim, after all.

"This is not funny, you will get hypothermia."

If not already, the chilly water would start to have an effect on him. More importantly, this stop and go dragging motion was causing copious amounts of sand to be lodged in his clothes, raking across his skin, so he forced his feet under himself and, draping an arm around her shoulders, began trudging the final steps to shore.

Despite his exhaustion, he continued about 50 feet past the waters edge to where the sand ended and grass began before he sat. He had enough sand all over him without adding more.

People had begun to gather near the burning ship and close enough to see them pulling their tired bodies out of the water, but no one seemed inclined to come and lend a hand. If he hadn't been spinning in his own head he would have admonished them for such uncivil behavior, but not now. He lay back on the coarse grass and let his eyes slip closed, feeling her drop to her knees beside him breathing heavily.

"Someone call..." Ziva began to yell over her shoulder before her voice trailed off as the faint hint of sirens wailing in the distance indicated that someone had already called 911. "Tony, open your eyes."

"Are you going to slap me again, Hoff?"

"Perhaps." she replied, a playful lilt to her voice, as if finally realizing they had not been killed and allowing herself to relax. "What is a Hoff?"

"You know. Baywatch? David Hasselhoff?"

"The singer, no?"

"No." he opened one eye, suddenly very serious as he took in her face. He couldn't tell if she was asking him that question seriously or if she was messing with him. "Well, perhaps in Europe, but not here in America where good music is appreciated and Hoff music just doesn't fly."

He closed his eye again as the sirens grew louder.

When the emergency vehicles pulled up near the boat he rolled to his side, using his arms to support himself a moment while his head calmed. No more putting it off, Tony pulled himself to a sitting position, the world swimming more intensely around him.

As he sat a moment, his head started to calm itself, but in anticipation of a head-slap he groaned. Gibbs was not going to be happy that they had let every scrap of evidence in that boat get blown to tiny bits.

They just couldn't catch a break on this one.

xoxo

A/N: Thanks for reading, here is the second update I promised this weekend and may get another out before the end of Sunday.

I am very excited to have broke 25,000 words last chapter. Considering I haven't written more then 10,000 words combined in the last 6 years, this has been an amazing roller-coaster couple of weeks and I am having the time of my life here. I hope you're all enjoying it as much as I am. Thanks!


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Tony felt the world tilting, but fought the urge to empty his stomach and the equally pressing urge to pass out. He was moving, was he falling? Was he passing out? DiNozzos do not pass out. Then his brain registered the gentle pressure on his chest as Ziva carefully pushed him, her other hand behind his head, laying him against the grass again.

"The EMTs are on the way." she said as she caught sight of the emergency personnel talking with the people on the dock who were pointing in their direction. The two EMTs turned back to retrieve some things from the ambulance.

He watched as she pulled her left hand from behind his head and stared at it for a long moment. She began scrubbing it against her wet pants, leaving a large reddish stain. Ziva carefully moved her hand to the top of his head, and he felt her fingers absently toying with his wet hair. Right hand still resting just over his heart, left gently running through his hair over and over as if she were petting a kitty.

He thought perhaps he was supposed to purr or something, but closed his eyes instead and focused on the gentle motion. Her fingers on his skin, soothing him. The world stopped spinning, but his brain continued as incoherent thoughts trampling each other.

"Tony, you have to stay awake." she whispered.

He opened his eyes slightly, looking through the small slits, avoiding as much of the piercing bright light as he could. "I'm cold."

Watching her through his lashes, her face crept to within inches of his own. He found it odd that it was suddenly taking up his entire field of vision. When did her head get so big it blocked everything else out? The concern was clear in her eyes.

"Help is on the way." she reassured again.

"Lifeguards have blankets." he said, his mind back on Baywatch, suddenly his thoughts veered in all directions and he felt as if the filter in his brain was turned off as his mouth started translating his thoughts into hushed, halting words.

"Blanket is a really bad name for a kid. I'd never name my kid that. Kids like chocolate." he saw a flash of sadness mix with the concern in her brown eyes, "not sad chocolate." He said in a whiny tone he didn't even recognize as he brought a hand up and ran it across her eyes. He had clumsily shut her eyes manually before his hand fell back down to the grass. It was very heavy.

She opened her eyes again, but he couldn't look at them anymore, they were worrying him. His gaze shifted around her face and his traitorous brain continued spewing out his mouth. "Have you ever wondered why elves have pointy ears? They're like Vulcans only smaller."

She looked out the corner of her eye, seeing the EMTs had almost reached them one carrying a large medical bag, the other a stabilizing board. She was concerned there may be serious swelling issues in his brain and was glad to see they wouldn't be making him walk out under his own steam. "No, I have never wondered that." she replied absently, turning her attention back to Tony.

He heard her speak, his gaze shifting to her mouth. "Strawberries." he thought out loud. "I didn't think they were in season, it's only spring." he wanted to have some, why wasn't she sharing her strawberries with him?

He lifted his head slightly to get a taste, his mouth grazed the strawberry, but his head was too heavy. He felt himself fall back against her hand which had stopped moving in his hair for some reason.

He licked his lips trying to taste the fruit he had not been able to fully reach, "Why did you put salt on them? Is that some weird Kosher thing? That's a bad idea, Ziva. Strawberries should never have salt on them. Maybe tomatoes. No, strawberries shouldn't have tomatoes on them, either. I mean salt. Salt on tomatoes, that's OK. Better on fries, but okay on tomatoes, too." he rambled.

He felt the lids on his eyes blink rapidly as if out of his control before closing as rushing footsteps caused vibrations through the ground under him. It was as if there was a stampede, why was everyone stomping so hard? He felt his whole body jerking from the force of the stomping.

He heard her call his name, he had never heard that tone in her voice. She was high-pitched, her vocal cords strained suddenly as if fear had literally gripped them with a forceful squeeze. But she didn't get scared, she was a brave soldier, a ninja, even, always calm and controlled.

He wanted to tell her everything would be fine, but those stomping people kept shaking him around and he couldn't force his eyes open.

The blackness took him.

Ziva was breathless, everything had happened so fast. She couldn't stop staring at Tony as his body jerked under her hands. She kept calling his name, but he wasn't responding.

She knew what this was, she had known a child with epilepsy when she was younger. Even with past experience, watching Tony gripped in a massive seizure had her frozen in place.

The EMTs had suddenly started running towards her and her brain wasn't fully processing what was happening. Just as the EMTs finally reached Tony he began to throw up. Vomit was coming out of his nose and his tightly clenched teeth as he continued to seize. She was sure he would suffocate, how could he not, there was no clear airway for him to breath through.

The EMTs rolled him on his side and moved her away from him so she would stop trying to restrain the jerking of his body. A few moments later his body finally relaxed.

By the time they got Tony settled on the gurney, collar around his neck for stability and to prevent any further injury, Ziva had visibly calmed. She had managed to pull her inner strength around her and externally calm herself, which as she considered it, only meant she looked calm to other people. Her heart was still racing a mile a minute and she couldn't seem to take a full breath of air without feeling as if her chest might explode from the pressure.

The two men asked if she was injured, but she shook off their questions as they lifted her partner and carried him across the beach towards the ambulance. She followed behind them.

Ziva gave a very brief statement to the nearest police officer she saw as she climbed in the ambulance behind the EMT and instructed them to contact her at the hospital if they had any further questions.

Ziva glanced out the back window of the ambulance as the EMT worked on getting IV lines into her partner. She noted the number of emergency vehicles that had arrived.

As they pulled out she saw the media vehicles arriving as well. She knew she should have stayed there, should have offered to assist with what was sure to be a media circus. For the first time in a long time, she simply couldn't find it in her heart to care about what she _should_ be doing. Absently, Ziva ran a finger across her lower lip as she turned her gaze back to her partner, pale and unconscious on the gurney beside her.

xoxo

By the time the plane landed in Miami, Tim's fingers were far past asleep and he absently wondered if he would ever get the feeling back in his left hand.

Gibbs had swapped seats with Abby so she didn't have to spend the flight alone with a stranger three rows behind him and McGee. She had been holding onto Tim's left hand with her right in a grip that clearly projected her worry since the moment the plane taxied out for take off.

Gibbs had called ahead from the airport to let the local police know the general details of their case and get them to start trying to track down Jake Boyle and Kyle Rodriguez.

Hopefully the boys would be in custody when they touched down. Whether it would be wise for anyone to let Gibbs in an interrogation room with any of them at the moment was another question.

None of them had brought more than a carry-on, so as soon as they were allowed to leave the plane they made their way quickly to the rental car desk to pick up the car McGee had arranged.

The warm Florida sun, shining in a bright blue sky seemed to be mocking their grief and anxieties as they got on a shuttle to pick up their car. McGee programed the GPS, and Gibbs drove at excessive speeds to the marina.

They were greeted with a mass of people. Though the event had occurred almost three hours before, the police presence seemed to still be thick. There were hundreds of onlookers, though the fire had long since been put out.

They had to park the car over a block from the marina and worm their way through the pressing bodies of all the onlookers. Reaching the yellow crime scene tape, Gibbs and McGee showed their badges as they ducked under the yellow plastic ribbon. Gibbs held the tape up, waiting for Abby to slowly make her way through as McGee began talking with one of the officers working the perimeter.

They were directed towards the dock where a heavy-set middle-aged man in a suit stood taking notes and discussing something with a few similarly dressed individuals.

"Detective Thomas?" McGee asked as they approached the man.

"Yeah, what can I do for you?"

They showed their credentials again, "Special Agents Gibbs and McGee, NCIS." Gibbs said, then gestured towards Abby, "Abby Scuito, she works with us in the crime lab in D.C."

"What interest does NCIS have with this investigation?"

"This scene is tied to a murder we've been investigating." Gibbs explained the case and it's ties to this boat dock, specifically the slip that no longer even had the smoldering hull of a boat in it.

"We had a couple agents in the area." McGee threw in. "They may have been near the boat when it went up?" he couldn't hide the hopeful and worried notes in his voice as he felt Abby come up next to him and grasp his hand.

The detective flipped through several pages in the small notebook he was holding, "I have half a dozen witness statements saying a man in a charcoal gray suit and a woman wearing either a blue or green shirt, depending on which witness you speak with, were seen boarding the boat shortly before it exploded."

The three felt the hot, humid air become suddenly thicker and Abby finally put voice to their concerns with a single words, "Survivors?"

"From what's left of the boat I would say none on the boat." he flipped through the notes again, as Abby's fingernails dug painfully into the flesh on Tim's hand.

"There was a couple taken to the hospital shortly after the explosion. The officer who took the statement was really new on the job and didn't think to write down their information."

Hope breathed into them with the salty ocean breeze as they waited the continuation of the sentence. "Here it is. 'Tony and Deena'. Rookie didn't think to get last names and he said something about her speaking with an accent."

"That's them." Abby breathed deeply, her head falling onto Tim's shoulder. "And it's Ziva, not Deena."

"Where were they taken?" Gibbs cut in.

"Jackson Memorial Hospital on NW 12th."

Gibbs handed McGee the keys. "Take Abby. I'm going to work with Detective Thomas. If that's OK with you?" he asked the other man who just shrugged and nodded. "Call me as soon as you know anything."

With that the younger two were gone and Gibbs was left with his worry, doubts and fears. Another feeling settled over him as he realized he would be useless in a hospital. More powerful than his worry was an overwhelming need for justice.

xoxo

A/N: Special thanks to Jayme, aka letsplaypretend for reminding me about then and than and pointing out my penchant for run on sentences. I really tried to be more conscious this time, except where Tony's altered mental state was concerned. You'll definitely still see run-on sentences if I'm in Abby's head, but aside from that I'll be more careful about them. I really appreciate all of you who have reviewed and the constructive criticism I have received. Makes my day, so here is a 3rd weekend update just for you guys. Thanks for reading.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Timothy McGee, a set in his ways cautious driver, broke the speed limit on the drive to the hospital, surprising Abby. One hand on the steering wheel, eyes focused on the street signs as the GPS instructed them where to turn.

He turned on NW 12th and her eyes moved towards the towering hospital, scanning for the red 'Emergency' sign that would signal where they needed to go. She spotted it at the same moment he said, "There it is."

They would be inside in a moment and everything would feel right again. She just knew it would, it had to. But what if it wasn't? No, can't do that. Positive thoughts. Positive thoughts.

His warm fingers gently squeezed her, as if he could read her thoughts and his thumb slowly moved back and forth across the back of her hand. Abby looked down at Tim's hand resting comfortingly over hers in the space between their seats. She could see angry red crescent shaped indentations in his skin, remembering her grip on his capable hand as they waited for news on the survivors back at the marina.

As McGee pulled into a spot in the large parking structure she brought his hand to her lips and like a mother with her boy's skinned knee she gently kisses the red marks she had inflicted. "Sorry." she whispered across his skin.

He waited for her to look back up before he gave her a reassuring smile, "It's fine, Abby." his voice was soft as a whisper, breath warm against her cheek as he awkwardly adjusted them in the car to pull her to his chest. "I know you're just trying to make it through all of this and I'm more then happy to sacrifice whatever you need if it makes things even a little easier for you."

She smiled sadly against his chest, hearing the steady rhythm of his heart against her cheek. His big heart, he was a good man, she didn't give him enough credit for it.

"We should go." she said, reluctantly pulling away from his comfort, brain racing with a million thoughts of what would face them when they finally went inside. Steeling herself with a mantra of Positive Thoughts, Positive Thoughts playing over and over in her head.

They reached the elevator, Tim examining a directory on the wall before hitting the down button and waiting for the lift. She grabbed his hand again as the elevator doors closed them inside and took them down to main floor.

She was conscious of the pressure she held his grasp with. Still worried she may cause him more damage without thinking about it, she felt a comforting squeeze from him and relaxed a little. The elevator ride seemed to take forever, but finally the doors opened and they followed the signs in the hallway to a desk in the emergency department.

"Special Agent Timothy McGee," he instinctively introduced himself with a flash of his credentials. "Can you direct me to Ziva David and Anthony DiNozzo?"

The woman went to work quickly. "I don't have a record of any Ziva David. Can you spell the last name for the other person?"

Abby gave her the info, "Big D, little i, big N, little ozzo." and they waited with breath held in anticipation for what seemed a lifetime of typing, "Looks like they got him settled in room 1207 down the hall." she said, gesturing back the way they had come in, "They are waiting on some further results before they move him upstairs."

Neither listened to much of the rest after 1207 and started down the hall to find his room before the receptionist had even finished talking.

Abby felt her heart racing, please please please. Ziva had to be in there with him. She couldn't be still missing. They had to all be together again after that door was opened.

She reached for the handle with her free hand and realized she was squeezing the life out of Tim's hand again, but he was just squeezing back as she opened the door slowly.

The interior of the room was darker then the hallway, shades drawn, lights dimmed, but their eyes adjusted to the limited light quickly.

Abby's feet seemed frozen to the ground as she saw Ziva leaning over Tony's sleeping form, fingers running slowly through his hair. Her hand was stopping just before a large white bandage on the back of his skull before moving back to his forehead and repeating the gesture. She was obviously being careful to avoid the injury.

Abby didn't understand the words Ziva was speaking in loan hushed tones, but recognized it as Hebrew. Abby found it odd that she was whispering soft Hebrew to Tony as he slept, but even more odd that she didn't look up from his face when they entered the room.

"Ziva." Abby finally spoke, all the relief in her bubbling out in the single word. Watching the other woman, she she saw her flinch slightly as she turned towards them.

Abby's feet suddenly started to work, but one step forward and Ziva had a hand up as if asking her to stop. Abby wouldn't have registered the motion if it weren't for Tim's hand still latched on hers and holding her firmly in place, not letting her advance.

She turned towards the man who was now restraining where before he was comforting and her confusion was too much to bear, "What, Tim? Let me go."

He walked with her a few more steps into the room, but not close enough for Abby to reach out, "After." was all he said.

It took her a long moment to realize what he was telling her. She took in Ziva's condition. The woman looked seriously calm, but as Abby inspected her more closely in the dim light of Tony's hospital room she finally saw what Tim must have noticed instantly. There was a distinct undercurrent of emotions threatening to boil to the surface, but she was holding it together long enough to give them the details.

Ziva gave McGee a weak smile as if to thank him for understanding "I should have called again. I tried a little while ago, but your phones all went straight to voice-mail."

"We were on a plane." he explained and she nodded understanding. "What happened?"

She felt her grip tighten on McGee as their friend recounted the last few hours of their lives, filling in all the missing pieces.

She told them about being on the boat. What she had found in the floor. Thinking they were about to die when the phone sang out. Not dying. The flashing message. The 10 seconds. Being thrown from the boat as they jumped. Ditching her over shirt and her boots as soon as she surfaced to keep her from being weighed down.

Abby looked down and saw that Ziva was in fact standing on what had to be cold tile flooring with bare feet.

Ziva recounted her frantic search for Tony only to find him succumbing to unconsciousness. Tony's stubbornness in accepting her help, them making it to shore, dragging him out of the water and finally making it to a patch of grass before falling down completely exhausted. Then she stopped suddenly taking in a ragged breath, a pained look on her face.

Ziva did not know if she would make it through this. She felt that tightness in her chest building even more strongly then it had while she had been standing at Tony's bedside. It was almost painful to breath, but she pushed forward.

"He started making incoherent statements like 'Blanket is a bad name for a child.' and his pupils suddenly dilated. I moved over him to block the sun, but his eyes did not adjust to the change in light."

She paused a moment, her quick shallow breaths making it difficult to speak. Finally, getting control over her body again, she continued, "He seemed to shift his focus a lot as if he were having trouble concentrating. He continued to babble randomness, how elves were like tiny Vulcans because of their pointy ears." she stopped again suddenly, wondering what to tell them.

Finally deciding she would not be telling them about strawberries she began again, feeling the need to rush through the rest of it. Abby couldn't take much more of this if the stricken look on her face was anything to go by. "He began to convulse and vomit, succumbing to a seizure and unconsciousness. The EMTs arrived, stabilized him and brought us here."

She saw the shock on both of their faces, but McGee was the first to speak. "Have they said if he'll be alright?"

Ziva did not know what to tell them. Doctors and nurses had come and gone in a blur over the last, who knows how long. She pulled her mind back in check, steadied her breathing and tried to focus on the things she had been told by the doctors, "There is some pressure inside his brain, they are treating it with medication and are fairly confident he will not need surgery."

"That's good then, right?" Abby asked, hopefulness warring with the concern in her tone and sadness playing across her eyes.

"We will not know how extensive the brain damage is until he wakes up. The longer he is unconscious, statistically, the more severe the damage to his brain tissue." There, she had said it, out loud. Her chest hurt again, not the same as before, more intense now and she felt slightly lightheaded from all of it.

Wanting, more then anything, to just be able to stop the talking she reached her arms out to Abby, wondering why one of her arms had not risen as quickly as the other. McGee released his grip on Abby's hand and the other woman rushed Ziva to engulf her in a hug.

McGee's panicked face over Abby's shoulder was the last thing Ziva saw. Blinding pain shot through her at the fierce hug she was receiving from Abby and everything went dark.

McGee had watched Abby engulf Ziva in a hug. The type of hug he knew was reserved for holding on tight and never letting go after a serious scare or a long separation. He was smiling gently at Ziva, trying to provide reassurances when Abby's arms engulfed the other woman.

Watching Ziva's face turn completely white, ashen even, he saw her eyes fly wide open before they suddenly fluttered closed with an expression that revealed extreme anguish.

He watched as if outside himself as the woman who had stood so strongly in front of them, recounting her near death just moments ago slumped in Abby's grasp.

He saw Abby's lips moving as she lay Ziva on the ground, but for a moment couldn't make out the words she was saying. Finally his brain interpreted the words as if they had just filtered in and he ran out into the hall, grabbing the first nurse he saw and practically dragging her with him into the room.

From there, he didn't process much. Abby was gently moved away from her as the nurse quickly checked Ziva over. He felt her standing next to him and the sharp bite of her fingernails again as they watched the chaos that followed.

The nurse hit the emergency button next to Tony's bed. More nurses rushed in, crowding the already small room, one left, came back with a gurney, a Doctor came in, checked her chest. They all spoke so quickly he couldn't keep up with the medical jargon. "Pneumothorax." He knew that one. What was that? What the hell was going on?

The hospital staff had rushed Ziva out of the room before either of them could speak or react and then suddenly Tim's brain started working again. Punctured lung. He knew Abby could give a power hug like nobody's business, but what the hell had just happened here?

He couldn't wrap his brain around the fact that Ziva had seriously stood in front of them, briefing them and giving a statement with, what? At least broken ribs and who knew how much internal damage. Some of the intense fear was pushed aside in his mind to make room for the sense of admiration that built with the knowledge.

Abby had released her death grip on him a few moments after the room cleared out and was sitting beside Tony's bed, staring blankly at the man lying there.

A nurse returned shortly thereafter to get specifics on Ziva so they could continue treatment and Tim answered her questions to the best of his ability. Numbness had settled over him.

When she left he grabbed his phone. He needed to call Gibbs, not entirely sure what he would tell the man.

xoxo

A/N: Sorry for such a lengthy chapter in a single place. I have diverted from the case and I promise I will get back there. It's just that these characters seem to have no respect for where I need to go in the story and are doing whatever they want to do, interrupting the flow of the case.

I hope if flows OK, even with all the character brain hopping. :) Thanks for reading.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Gibbs was crouched on the charred edge of the dock near the empty boat slip. Divers were in the water, but had come up with very little. He found himself staring at three tiny charred electronic pieces that were separated from the rest.

Most things electronic could be identified as belonging to the ships radio or other internal electronic devices, but these three small pieces where likely from the explosive itself.

From having seen on screen in MTAC the damage to the vessel, Gibbs wasn't surprised at how little had been found of what lay at the heart of the explosion, but it didn't make him feel any less frustrated about the whole situation.

His phone rang and he answered it with an impatient tone, hoping it wasn't Ducky again, "Gibbs."

"Hey, Boss." he noted the quiet concern in the young agents voice and listened as McGee haltingly recounted the events from the hospital. After a few minutes, Gibbs knew he couldn't listen to the Agent's strained voice for very much longer, but thankfully, shortly thereafter the younger man had stopped talking.

Gibbs noted the waving of Detective Thomas calling him to join him and spoke into the phone, not even acknowledging the previous statements on the condition of his agents. He couldn't think about them right now. He had to work, had to focus.

"I'm going to have Detective Thomas' tech guy send you an address in one of those text messages. Meet us there, we're serving a warrant on the Boyle residence."

He was greeted with silence from the other side of the phone, as if Tim were surprised or confused at the sudden change in topic.

"Make sure Abby is settled, then get your butt to that address. We need to find who did this to them."

"On it, Boss." his reply was weak, but he heard the understanding as it dawned on the younger man. "Get me that address." and there was the vengeance he knew would follow shortly after McGee caught on to exactly what catching these bastards could mean.

Sure, it wouldn't guarantee a recovery for either of their fallen friends, wouldn't save them from any hurt, or take away any pain. What it would do is bring closure for all of them and a little bit of sweet justice could go a long way to healing fragile hearts and minds and restoring a little bit of right in the world.

xoxo

McGee made it to the address of Jake Boyle's residence in record time, finally understanding why Tony always gave him a hard time about his driving. When you really wanted to be somewhere, traveling through town as if you're on a leisurely Sunday drive was not the way to get there.

He had felt awful leaving Abby there alone. The look in her eyes was nearly his undoing. He had stepped out into the hall to call Gibbs and when he came back in she was still staring quietly at their friend.

The determined set of her shoulders was a sign, stay away, he recognized that from not so long ago. He just couldn't bring himself to listen to it after everything they had been through today.

Ignoring his strong sense of self preservation he moved up behind her seat and put his hands on her shoulders, squeezing gently. To his surprise she relaxed back into him, her head resting against his stomach and her hands coming up to cover his on her shoulder as her face turned up to look at him with a small smile.

"I gotta go." he had told her, and then watched as, for the second time in their lives together, 3 little words out of his mouth set her in stone. No response came from her as he explained and the sense of déjà vu was palpable.

Visions of the tired, broken look he got from Abby as he walked out of Tony's hospital room were still swirling in his head as he walked up to the open front door of the Boyle family residence. The other officers had beat him there and the search was actually nearing its end when Gibbs spotted him in the living room.

Guiding Tim to a quiet corner, Gibbs filled him in on how little progress they had made. There was not much to go off at the scene of the explosion. They had yet to turn up anything here in the house. There was no sign of the three teens at any of their homes or known hangouts.

Basically, they didn't have a thing to go on. Feeling supremely frustrated his mind went back to the little emergency room where he had left the rest of their team. "They deserve answers and, damn it, coming up empty is starting to get old."

"We just have to keep looking."

"I don't know how you do this." Tim was distressed as everybody seemed to be packing up and calling it quits on the search, having found no ties to drugs, bombs, nothing. "I feel useless." He said quietly.

"Well cut it out." Gibbs cut in with a sharp note to his voice. "Get your head on straight."

"What, like you?" McGee responded with contempt, and instantly couldn't believe he'd used that tone towards Gibbs. He tried to stop himself, but his mouth kept moving and his thoughts poured out in a rush before he could stop them, "My friends are lying in a hospital right now. They could have died. They might still die."

He found he was shouting now, surely garnering eavesdropping from the Miami police officers scattered throughout the house, but he didn't care. "You might be able to go on and function like it's any other day of the week, but you should probably consider that some of us still have hearts." He saw a flash of something in the other man's eyes, but he couldn't place it and wasn't sure he wanted to.

"Some of us can't lock everything down at a moments notice and put our friends out of our minds just because you will it to happen." The fight suddenly went out of him, and his next words were soft, anger gone, exhaustion taking over, "I just can't, Boss."

Tim turned on his heel and hurried back out of the sprawling mansion without a look back at what was sure to be the angry face of his boss. Being outside was a relief and he breathed heavily of the salty sea breeze as he wandered aimlessly towards the far side of the yard.

He needed to feel the earth beneath his feet as his blood raced through his veins and he tried to calm himself. He stopped near the edge of the yard, looking out over the expensive seaside view, not really taking in the sight as his mind raced through the events of the day.

It was entirely too short of a reprieve before he heard the determined footsteps of his boss approaching from behind. McGee braced himself for a head slap or a verbal lashing. He felt the bite of Gibbs grabbing his arm as his boss swung him forcefully around to face him.

Tim's mind was awash with thoughts of death and dying and brain damage and not recovering, his eyes had misted over and he willed himself not to cry, not in front of Gibbs, not like this.

There was that look again in the older man's eyes. Tim waited what seemed an eternity for Gibbs to speak, to lash out, to do something. Do anything in response to his completely out of line outburst from a moment before.

He was stunned when Gibbs pulled him into a strong hug, "I know it's hard, but I need you on this one, Tim."

xoxo

Ziva came back to painful consciousness as she was being wheeled out of Tony's hospital room. She was moved briskly into a room just down the hall as the frantic activity continued.

A nurse slipped an oxygen mask over her face, the heat of her breathing in the mask immediately making her feel confined and the strong odor of plastic made her want, more then anything, to pull the offending device off her face.

She watched as the doctor approached her with a large needle. Wielding it like a knife and making her instinctively tense, fighting the urge to strike first and prevent the attack. She felt the pinch and watched the long menacing silver tip disappear into her chest cavity.

Ziva felt as if an extreme weight was lifted off her chest and her breathing instantly became easier. She felt herself hoping this was the end of it all, but knowing that was an idiotic thing to assume.

Soon she was being wheeled down to x-ray. What seemed a million adjustments, positions, and pictures later, she was finally back in her room.

The nurse checked her pulse and oxygen levels. Smiling kindly at her, the older woman, plump, friendly and rosy cheeked, made Ziva's day by removing the annoying oxygen mask. She replaced it with an only slightly less annoying nasal cannula while chattering about just about anything and everything making Ziva think longingly of Abby.

Oh, Abby. She hoped she had not scared her friend too much. Who knows how long Abby would be scared to give her a hug.

Soon after, the Doctor arrived and confirmed her suspicion that things were not nearly as bad as everybody was freaking out about. A couple of broken ribs, she'd had those before. Less than 15% of her lung had collapsed, it would heal on it's own without a respirator or the need for a chest tube.

She had a concussion so minor that it barely gave her a headache, though, thinking about it that could be more to do with the heavy dose of painkillers they had given her. She had already had enough of lying around in bed and was ready to get out of there.

"Whoa, what are you doing?" the friendly 50-something nurse from earlier asked, concern evident in the older woman.

"I need to go."

"We're not ready to get rid of you just yet." the woman gave her a kind smile, but Ziva was not in the mood for kindness.

"My lung was less then 15% collapsed, the pressure is relieved, I will take it easy."

"It's not a good idea for you to leave the hospital. You have a lot more going on then just your lung. We need to run regular X-rays to monitor, you, make sure you're not getting worse." a flash of frustration behind the grandmotherly eyes.

"I had not planned on leaving the hospital."

And now the other woman was confused. "Then what, exactly, are you doing?"

Ziva had started slowly searching through the plastic bag next to her bed that contained what was left of her clothes. The undershirt was long gone, they had cut that away from her body in the frenzy to deal with her breathing issue.

Her pants were as good as ruined, but she started pulling on the blood stained garment. She was careful not to bend over too far, but was having some difficulty and sat back on the bed, pants dangling off one of her legs.

"Just wait, OK?" the nurse pleaded.

"I can not." Ziva's tone was stronger then she expected. "I need to get back to my friend. I will check myself out against medical advice if I have to."

Understanding crossed the nurses eyes and she placed a gentle hand on Ziva's arm. "Just wait here for 5 minutes, let me get some things, OK?"

True to her word the nurse was back a few minutes later with a pair of blue scrubs. The older woman helped Ziva get dressed in the loose fitting hospital attire as she explained the ground rules for letting Ziva out of her room.

"You're not to leave the hospital. You're to remain seated and relaxed at all times in a wheelchair." feeling Ziva's glare the woman added, "Without complaint or you will be banned from the Hospital and that includes visiting."

Ziva nodded, suddenly having a whole new respect for the nurse. The list was starting to frustrate her, but the woman was going to let her go and so she patiently waited for further instructions.

"You will not try to remove your I.V. or oxygen. You will allow for check-ups as requested and when it is time to rest there will be no argument."

Ziva gave her a real smile of gratitude as the woman helped her into a wheelchair, attaching her IV bag to a stand on the chair.

"I knew you would be difficult when I heard you stood in that room for nearly 3 hours in your condition." the nurse gave her one of those, I know what's good for you looks, but her smile was full of understanding. "The stubborn ones are always the most difficult."

A few moments later she was being wheeled back into Tony's room, greeted sadly with the sight of her partner still unconscious, but the radiant smile from Abby brought a smile to her own face.

Ziva was wheeled next to the bed where she grasped Tony's hand from her chair as the nurse told Abby the ground rules.

Unfortunately she wouldn't be able to loosen up on the rules around Abby, but even knowing she would be watched like a hawk from here, she felt better already.

She just wished Tony would wake up.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

There was literally not much to do in a hospital room. Abby and Ziva had exhausted their options within minutes and relegated themselves to taking turns talking to Tony with side conversations about Tony.

Ziva was sure, if he could hear her regaling Abby with stories of his heroism or bravery his head would grow two sizes bigger. In the current situation, she thought, he had enough swelling in his head, so she was glad he was out and unable to hear them extrapolating on his honor and integrity.

A nurse came in about half an hour later with DiNozzo's transfer paperwork. He was being moved out of the ER and into a more suitable room. Abby pushed Ziva's wheelchair, following their unconscious friend out of the room.

"Where do you think you're going?" it was the nurse who had helped Ziva earlier.

Abby was intent on keeping up with Tony, but the transport staff moving him was delayed waiting on the elevator so she turned Ziva around to face the woman.

To both of their surprise she was smiling slyly at them. "Don't forget your paperwork, Miss David."

Ziva was confused as she grabbed the folder the woman was handing her. "Please, call me Ziva." she responded immediately.

"Tammy." The nurse reciprocated, taking over for Abby pushing Ziva into the elevator behind the rest of their little group.

"My son is in the Navy. 15 years last month." The woman chatted cheerfully. "We are a very patriotic family. I have been a navy wife myself for more years then I can count."

The elevator doors opened again and the nurse gestured for the man pushing Tony's still body on the gurney to go ahead of them. The nurse didn't miss a beat, "I guess it rubbed off on my boy. Lucky man, he found himself a sweet woman to settle down with. A doctor. Did I tell you we had a doctor in the family? Well, we do. And she is such a good Navy wife. Takes care of the house, writes him everyday." She added on a whisper, "hasn't given me any grandchildren yet, but I can be patient."

Just as Ziva was starting to wonder how it was possible to meet someone who rambled more then Abby and Ducky combined, the nurse stopped walking. They were at the nurse's station, and the older woman left Ziva in her chair to watch her friends continue on and disappear around a corner. The friendly woman had gone into a small room off the open reception area.

The nurse emerged a minute later, speaking jovially with a younger woman, and both approached her. "You must be Ziva?" the younger woman asked unnecessarily. Her response was a simple nod.

"I'm Dr. Riser. Tammy has been talking about you all day."

The woman's very slight southern accent intrigued Ziva and was pleasant to listen to, but even still, "I need to get back to my friends."

"Of course, dear." Tammy replied and they continued to chat as they walked Ziva down the hallway.

"Tammy said that you've been stuck like glue to your partner since he came in. I heard from the report that you saved that man's life. He's lucky to have you."

"It is what we do. We look out for each other. Occupational hazard, as they say."

The two medical professionals smiled and Ziva couldn't help feeling like this was one of the strangest trips to the hospital she had ever experienced. With a preconceived notion of hospitals from far too many stays in them, she was at a loss to put this friendly and helpful duo into their rightful place of torturing, impatient, impersonal hospital staff.

"That's exactly what we do, too." Tammy replied and shared a knowing look with Dr. Riser. "Navy families, we look out for each other."

Dr. Riser opened the door to a hospital room and Tammy pushed her chair inside. Ziva was greeted with a welcome sight. Tony had been wheeled inside, Abby was a couple feet from Tony's bedside, sitting on a vacant hospital bed in the room, feet dangling over the side.

"Here is your room, Miss David." Dr. Riser informed her.

"It's just Ziva." Tammy cut in to make sure the younger woman understood, "The little dear wouldn't even let me call her Miss."

Ziva had decked people for less then the 'little dear' comment Tammy had lobbed at her just then, but she felt no desire towards ill will.

"In that case," Dr. Riser amended, "Ziva, please call me Marianne. As Momma Tammy said, we're family."

With a great big grin the young doctor swept out of the room, leaving the nurse in the wake to explain the comment to twin questioning looks from Ziva and Abby. "What is it dears?"

"What was that all about? Why are you two doing this?" Ziva couldn't contain the incredulous note in her voice.

"We're doctors and nurses, we're nice people." the nurse hedged.

"No," Ziva responded, "Doctors and Nurses are ego-maniacal sadists. Explain."

Ziva knew her tone was harsh, confusion tended to do that to her, make her snippy and irritable, but Tammy just broke into a huge grin as she laughed.

"You're right, you know. The majority..." the older woman wiped a tear from her eye, trying to contain the laughter that was bursting from her. "That explains almost everyone here."

"So explain you and that doctor?" Abby asked, far more gently then Ziva had.

Tammy had managed to calm herself and went to work checking Tony and Ziva's vitals and getting Ziva settled in the bed, "I told you about my son, the Navy Sailor. I'm so proud of that boy."

When she was done checking over the two and getting everything settled she pulled a chair up and sat next to Ziva's bed where Abby was again perched, swinging her feet. "You see, a couple years ago my son was at sea. He ended up mixed up in a really big mess. Now mind you, the boy did nothing wrong, but all suspicions pointed towards him. Evidence was planted, scenes were staged, and it was looking certain that my son would live out the rest of his days in a military prison with a dishonorable discharge weighing on his heart."

The woman extrapolated on the facts as she weaved a beautiful story filled with suspense, intrigue and danger. She told them about the immature, self centered, good for nothing NCIS agent who just grabbed up the evidence and wrote her son off as guilty before the investigation was barely started. "At least that's what my son thought as he wasted away in the brig for 3 days."

Tammy smiled at them, "On the third day the agent afloat came down and released my son. Something hadn't set right with the man and he spent those three days with nearly no sleep so he could do his normal rounds and double, triple, quadruple check everything he thought he knew."

"So, your son was framed?" Abby asked, enthralled and smiling. She was so like a child at times that her breathless anticipation of 'story time' made Ziva smile as well.

"Yep. Apparently they did a very good job of it too. It was all an attempt to cover up a contraband weapon smuggling operation that several of the officers had gotten involved in." Tammy knew they were hooked, she knew it was a great story, it had everything. She told the story all the time, but today it was different. "If it hadn't been for the persistence of one NCIS agent I don't know where my family would be right now."

"So that is why you are not intentionally removing and reinserting my IV or threatening to stab me with some evil looking medical device?" she asked, trying to build logic where there appeared to be none.

Abby on the other hand went more towards the touchy-feely aspect, "Oh, this is your pay it forward." At Ziva's questioning look Abby explained, "It's when someone does something nice for you, then you do something nice for someone else."

"It's not a pay it forward, it's a pay it back." two confused expressions greeted Tammy's comment, "Agent DiNozzo is the agent afloat who saved my son and single handedly took down the officer's gun smuggling ring."

Shortly after, Tammy excused herself, leaving two completely dumbstruck women to talk it out.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Abby sounded petulant, upset that she had been left out on a story from Tony's life that sounded exciting. Thrilling even, and rewarding in it's conclusion of good triumphs over evil.

"You love glory and talking about yourself. It does not make sense that you would keep such a story to yourself." Ziva was just impressed. Tony had done something and hadn't patted himself on the back for it.

They settled back into comfortable conversation and time seemed to pass more easily in the comfort of the larger room with the aid of TV and radio.

Ziva was starting to feel mildly exhausted when Abby finally decided to loosen the reigns a little. Actually, it wasn't Abby's decision, though Ziva was not against letting her friend think that it was.

Ziva had received her hospital dinner, a lovely assortment of chicken broth and Jell-o, and told Abby in no uncertain terms that she was to go down to the cafeteria before it closed and get something to eat.

Abby did not seem to like the idea of leaving her alone and said about as much, but Ziva was persistent. "Please? I have to sit her and drink my dinner, at least I will feel better if I know one of us is able to eat some real food."

She gave Abby a look that was probably more than a little off. She was uncomfortable with the unfamiliar facial expression. It was not much of a surprise when Ziva considered that the last time she remembered using that particular expression she was about 5 years old and was trying to beg some kind of treat from her parents.

It was her attempt to pull off that cute little pouty look that Abby got sometimes when she really wanted a person to go along with her. It was the same look Ziva caught on the faces of children at stores with their parents.

The reaction the only other time she had used that look was less then desirable, but she couldn't see Abby smacking her across the face, so she chanced it.

The payoff was Abby grudgingly agreeing that she supposed she was hungry. Ziva couldn't help the painful laugh that escaped her lips when Abby's face lit up in a huge grin as she said, "I bet they have a Caf-Pow! machine down there." and just like that the other woman was out the door as if on a mission.

Breathing a deep sigh and counting to ten in her head to make sure she knew Abby wasn't going to be right back in the room two seconds later, Ziva carefully rose from her bed and took the 2 steps to Tony's.

He looked peaceful, but it was so unnatural. He shouldn't be lying there so quiet. "You need to open your eyes." she said quietly, moving her hand back up to rub through his hair again mirroring her earlier actions.

She found herself thinking of the beach and about how she would give anything to hear that little huff of a laugh followed by, "Are you going to slap me again?"

She expressed, to what was probably just thin air, her knowledge of her partner's strength, she told the man who could probably hear nothing how important a part of their team he was, she expressed her pride in his actions to clear Tammy's son.

Having spoken more positive praise and encouragement in the last couple minutes then she had probably said or even heard in her life, she soon ran out of words. She needed Tony to fill in all the awkward silences.

"Tony," her voice more insistent now, "You need to open your eyes."

Nothing.

"Dammit, Tony." her frustration poured out as she slammed her hand down on the bed next to him. It was a bad idea. Apparently, her body was offended by the violent outburst and showed it's protest with a completely insufferable pain lancing through her insured side.

She committed the feel of his hair under her fingers to memory, leaned over and whispered a soft prayer in his ear before letting her lips trail ever so slightly along his cheek. "Please, just wake up." she whispered.

With a final squeeze of his hand, she made herself move back to the bed, lay down and breath slow and steady until the pain dissipated.

xoxo

A/N: I was going to take a break today, but Ziva threatened to break my arm if I didn't get this story moving so she they can get out of the darn hospital and back to work. So here is a post that I hadn't planned on writing until tomorrow, but you get it a day early. Which means I can write something else tomorrow. Maybe we'll actually focus on the case for once...


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

The two NCIS agents had been set up in the local Miami police station in a small conference room. A hasty, yet effective, work space had been constructed with a couple of computers, phones, and even a magnetic white board they could put their visual evidence on and draw inspiration from.

Not as effective or practical as the plasma back home, but it was better then most of the worthless corners other local law had stuck them in when they believed their jurisdiction was being encroached upon by the Feds.

Gibbs was sure it had more to do with their fallen officers then the general amicability of the local cops, but whatever the reason he was grateful for their dedication and support on this one.

As Tim worked through some techno-thing or another on his laptop, trying to find the key to track the young punks, Gibbs sat on the edge of the conference table staring blankly at the white board.

He was starting to get frustrated with the lack of anything useful. For a couple of dumb kids, they sure were able to stay one step ahead of the law, and it was really pissing him off. It didn't help that Tim's words from this afternoon had replayed in his head on a continuous loop for most of the past three hours.

Gibbs had run the gamut of emotions since Tim spoke to him in that house. He was pissed at first, then understanding hit him and after that his concern for his only agent still standing pushed all the rest of it away.

There was nothing quite like watching a quiet, shy, sometimes fearful and stuttering boy turn into a man in front of your eyes. He was sure Tim would disagree. The young man had even called the incident his "childish outburst" as he'd pulled himself out of the rare hug Gibbs had held him in and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

But Gibbs had another perspective on it. Turns out the Probie had a back bone and he was shaping up to be a fine agent. Gibbs even had to admire the fact that he was willing to not only let others see his vulnerabilities, but accept them enough to shout it to the world and right in the face of his boss. Admit his fears and worries and then push on anyways and get down to business.

He knew they thought he was an asshole sometimes, too hard, too tough, but to hear Tim say he didn't have a heart had been a bit of a surprise.

He knew if McGee had been in his right mind he never would have said that, but fear and anxiety bring out different sides of different people. His protective instincts come out and he wants vengeance, apparently McGee adopted some kind of devil may care attitude flying in the face of perceived danger without a backwards glance. He knew Tim feared him, on some level all of his agents did.

McGee had the fear that he was inadequate, and that amplified his stuttering explanations and apologies when Gibbs had his sights on the poor boy. He wasn't blaming that on DiNozzo, he'd been 'Probie' to Mike Franks, hell, he still was, and it hadn't wounded his psyche any.

However, he wasn't not blaming some of it on DiNozzo either.

Tony feared the loss of the family he had built through the team, thinking absurdly that if he messed up Gibbs would ship him back to Baltimore where he'd found him. No amount of quiet resolve and support seemed to make that go away completely, though he had seen his senior field agent relax his guard quite a lot these last couple of years.

Ziva, now that he thought about it, feared the same thing as Tony, but for different reasons. She had given up everything back home to stay here with them, and he could almost hear the thoughts in her head every now and then that seemed to radiate her concern that Gibbs may decide he suddenly didn't need her anymore.

Not to mention the fear that came from her experience with Mossad and her life in that world that made her more apt to think Gibbs were in fact capable and willing to take her out permanently if that were called for.

Though, as of late, Ziva had gotten a glint in her eye when he'd given her the glare he knew left each of his agents shaking in their boots for their own reasons. It was as if she were mentally assessing whether she could take him or not.

He had a sudden thought of last week and the corner of his mouth lifted slightly at the memory of that look in her eye. It was followed this time with the barest hint of a smile as if she had finally decided she could and her almost imperceptible shrug before she had turned back to her work.

And what was he afraid of? While he was being so observant of others, shouldn't he be willing to do the same with himself? Just come out and admit his own fears of failing as protector of his team? He stopped himself there, this was not constructive.

Gibbs wasn't a praying man, but he found himself hoping very strongly that this hospital visit wouldn't cost him his agents or send them home with any kind of limitations.

Not because Tony would be hard to replace, that was an understatement, but because the man would be crushed.

Not because Ziva would be hard to replace, that was a given, but because she would be lost without her life here.

And not because Tim couldn't handle himself as a senior field agent with a new team of Probies, because more and more everyday the young man was proving to everyone, even if he didn't see it himself, that he could do it. Proving that he was a part of their twisted little family tree and he was more helpful then he gave himself credit for.

It is the sum of the parts and not the parts themselves that make this team so effective. If they lost even a single part, he knew they could go on, they'd have to, but it would never be the same.

Tony gone would mean he'd have to watch his own six.

Ziva gone would mean he'd have to keep DiNozzo in line by himself.

Gibbs shook his head, he had to get out of this reverie and back to the matter at hand, but he couldn't shake the dark cloud that hung over him.

He heard the scraping of a chair across the floor behind him and noticed Tim was suddenly standing behind his computer, excitement radiating off the young agent's face. "I think I got something, Boss." he waved Gibbs over.

McGee had a map up on the screen with red, yellow, blue and green dots throughout the Miami area and he was pointing at them with purpose. "We couldn't get a read on Rodriguez and Boyle's cell phones because they're off, but I pulled up the cell histories from both phones."

Gibbs caught the eye of Detective Thomas through the conference room window and waved him in. A few seconds later he was in the room and McGee continued. "So, I pulled up the cell phone histories and was able to get several locations in town where there was a much heavier concentration of calls. I have those mapped here, McGee gestured to several spots on the map."

"We already checked those, McGee." Gibbs said, unable to keep the annoyance from his voice. McGee had gotten him excited about a potential breakthrough and he felt deflated.

"Right, Boss, but. . ." McGee sat back down as he clicked on the screen and the red dots disappeared. "Rodriguez was in red, he's not helpful." McGee adjusted it again and the Blue and yellow disappeared, leaving only the green, which was actually transitioning from blue to yellow to green. "Here's the key." McGee pointed to the spots.

"Right here we see that during the times that this phone was active, there was another electronic device active in the same area. This is a tie to the internet through a wireless 3G network. The connection follows the phone and wherever the phone is the wireless line is, too. I was able to back trace the connection to an account with Amazon. This is from a Kindle." At Gibbs' blank look McGee explained, "A Kindle is an electronic book reader. Instead of books on paper you read them on a little portable electronic device. It's hooked to the internet so you can get books instantly wherever you are."

"And you can track this book?"

"Boyle's phone is here in the Blue, his Kindle is the yellow, where they have been together is in green. Now check this out." McGee pulled back up the yellow and blue dots and pointed to a spot south west of Miami, "It looks like his phone is always off when he goes here, but the Kindle is on. And the kicker?" he asked to no one in particular and didn't wait for an answer, "It's on right now."

McGee maneuvered the mouse and got the picture to zoom in on the location of the flashing yellow dot. In the Everglades, just off what appeared to be a large swampy body of water that fed into a small river and out to the ocean there was an unfocused brown square that could easily be a cabin.

"We're going to need some special equipment to get there." Detective Thomas said. "Let me make some calls." with that Thomas left the room.

Gibbs clapped his agent on the shoulder, gazing at the screen with amazement at the things this boy could do with computers. "That's good work, Tim."

"Thanks, Boss." McGee didn't take his eyes off the screen, "I'm just going to keep an eye on this to make sure they don't move. Let me know when we're ready to roll out."

"Call Abby, she'll want to know that we caught a break." Gibbs was halfway out the door when he turned back and amended, "that _you _caught a break."

xoxo

Abby was dancing on a cloud of happiness as she strolled back to Ziva and Tony's room.

Dinner was better then expected for hospital food, they had Caf-Pow! in the cafeteria, she drank one while she ate her turkey sandwich and got a refill for the way back up, and McGee called with good news on the case.

Tim had been very happy to hear that Ziva and Tony were settled in a room and Ziva appeared to be out of the woods, getting around with little help and even apparently loosening up.

Abby was nearly skipping and started talking as soon as she had the door opened, but shut her mouth tightly when she saw Ziva had gone to sleep. She tsked quietly when she noticed that she hadn't touched her dinner, though she couldn't blame her, the bland soup and Jell-O did not look appetizing in the least.

Despite the Caf-Pow! Abby felt herself yawning as she observed her two sleeping friends. Tim said he'd call when they had any information, so she turned the ringer up on her phone and laid it on the nightstand next to Ziva's bed.

Abby considered her options. She could push a couple of chairs together and put her feet up on one while she sat in the other, but that didn't sound too terribly appealing.

Tony was taking up nearly all of his bed, but Ziva was a lot smaller and was near the edge of her own. Abby contemplated joining her friend, there was plenty of room, but she didn't want to leave Tony out. Maybe that nice nurse would bring a cot in and she could sleep between the two, or maybe. . . Abby chewed absently on a finger as a plan formulated in her head. It wasn't that she didn't care about the comfort of her friends, right? Just because she wanted to be with them both at the same time and be comfortable, too. She'd be careful she promised them both silently.

Abby went to work, quietly and efficiently working.

She lowered the plastic rail on the right side of Tony's bed and the Left side of Ziva's, unlocked the wheels on Ziva's bed and, careful of all their separate wires and tubes, pushed them together, or as close together as they would go considering their bulky metal and plastic construction of their beds.

She stood back a moment, examining her handiwork and climbed onto the bed beside Ziva, carefully adjusting herself around the other woman's oxygen tube and IV, careful not to pinch or constrain anything.

Abby reached across Ziva, grabbed Tony's hand and pulled it over so she could hold both of their hands at the same time. She was actually surprised to find how warm his hand was.

Tony had been laying there so motionless Abby had actually expected his hand to feel more like a corpse then the warm calloused hand she had been comforted by so many times over the years.

Thoughts of corpses made her eyes fill with tears and she couldn't seem to shake them.

Wishing all the while that her mind would just be more normal or right for once and not give her morbid flashes and black thoughts to worry about, Abby let the tears fall on the pillow she was sharing with Ziva. Eventually sleep took her.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Ziva was confused and disoriented as she felt herself coming out of sleep. Her nose itched from that damn air tube she couldn't get rid of but her hands and arms felt slightly constricted. She couldn't immediately reach to scratch the bothersome itch and eventually tuned it out.

The constrained feeling was not uncomfortable. Aside for something poking her in the shoulder and the moist heat of someone breathing on her neck, she just felt warm and comfortable.

There was the feeling of soft circles being rubbed against her stomach. Like lazy fingers with nothing better to do then make nonsense patterns on the tiny patch of exposed skin where the shirt of her scrubs had risen slightly over her stomach. This was all very confusing, but she figured Abby had come back and joined her for a nap.

Ziva finally cracked her eyes and looked to her right where she spotted the tell-tale black pigtails sprawled across her shoulder as Abby breathed into her neck, her friend's studded dog collar was digging slightly into her shoulder blade. Yep, Abby had come back and taken a nap, even blind and half asleep she was a pretty good detective, she thought, amusing herself for a moment.

Ziva's sleepy mind took in the blackness outside the large bank of windows and the dim lighting inside the room as it cast itself over Abby's face. Then Ziva had a thought that would have made her laughed , if not for worrying she'd wake the obviously exhausted woman wrapped around her. Abby was just as fidgety in sleep as she was awake. Here she was out cold and rubbing soft circles across Ziva's belly.

Ziva looked down as she reached for the hand to disentangle herself and stretch out the soreness that had settled on her in sleep. Her eyes fell on the hand stroking her and the breath caught in her throat. That was not Abby's hand.

Ziva's head started to spin and she looked left, completely shocked when her brown eyes met soft green ones only a few inches from her face. When had her bed been scooted over here?

"Tony?" she asked on an uncertain whisper, a hint of hope lingering in the two syllables.

Could she still be sleeping? It was possible. Perhaps it was a drug induced delusion?

Her eyes took in every detail they could, his head resting on the pillow of his hospital bed, slight stubble along his jaw, his body turned towards her instead of lying on his back as he had been for so long. His green eyes danced with emotion just below the surface.

"If you two wanted to have a sleepover, you could've just asked." he followed her lead and whispered his statement as well.

Ziva was speechless. All this worry and he is just going to wake up like its any other day and start right in with an innuendo? She couldn't find words, but he didn't seem to mind the silence.

After a long moment of each taking in the others condition through a thorough examination of each others faces, he started right where he'd left off, "Not exactly how I had planned to scratch this off my bucket list."

"What is a bucket list?"

"Seriously, Ziva? We have a lot of cinematic ground to make up."

"Tony," suddenly the weight of the situation hit Ziva, "We should call the nurse. They should check you over."

Ziva reached for the button on the rail of her bed, but Tony stopped her. "I feel good, nurses can wait. Are you alright?"

She had to smile at that, he was concerned about her when he was the one in a veritable coma for most of the day. "I am fine. Minor injuries, really."

He scoffed at her, still sure to keep his voice down, "Right, because they always make people who are fine hang out in hospitals with oxygen and I.V. lines."

"How are you feeling?" she deflected the question, no need to bog him down with worries as soon as he woke up.

Tony let out a heavy sigh, their proximity made it so she felt the rush of air at his exhalation. "I'm not going to lie. I've felt better."

She placed her hand on his, but he still didn't stop with the soft circles on her skin. She was surprised that she was not more bothered by how random and intimate the gesture was, but they had been through a lot today. He was probably just as glad she was alive as she was glad that he was. Each taking comfort in the others current state of existence as she had when running her fingers through his hair earlier.

"Do you remember anything?"

"I think I remember everything until the stampede."

She searched her brain for an idiom, American slang, something that fit with the word stampede aside from what it actually meant.

Tony must have noticed her confusion and explained that the stampede of medical staff had shaken him so fiercely at the beach that he couldn't speak and he blacked out.

Suddenly the situation was very serious as Ziva remembered the events on that beach, "You had a seizure, Tony." It had to be the impact of heavy doses of pain killers that made her voice break just then.

She felt his hand finally fall still against her skin, he moved it off of her and she felt the loss of it instantly.

Tony laid his hand over top of hers, opposite how they had been a moment ago and she watched their hands together while he gave her a reassuring squeeze.

"I'm sorry, Ziva."

Her eyes shot back to his immediately, there was a welling sadness in the green depths and she was confused. "What are you apologizing for? Perhaps we should get the doctor now, you are confused from the knock to the head, yes?"

The sadness still in his eyes, now he was smiling at her with an expression that said he was humoring her for the statement, but not believing a word of it. "I _am_ sorry and it's not any kind of brain damage, thank you very much." the whisper made his sarcastic finishing statement sound nearly the same as the beginning, but an expert on his speech patterns, she knew what he was trying to convey.

"That must have been awful. Watching someone you know go all Alec Baldwin in My Sister's Keeper?"

She couldn't believe their luck, here they were, both awake and alert and Tony making random movie references she normally wouldn't get, but she had actually seen that one. Thoughts of it made her cringe and she immediately felt his hand tighten on hers again.

Distracting herself she glanced at the clock on the wall, "You've been unconscious for almost 11 hours." When she looked back he was giving her that look that said, nice try, now out with the real answer.

"I will not deny that it was frightening, but there was nothing you could do and you should not be sorry."

"Now there is a change of pace." he responded on a soft chuckle to the first half of her statement, letting the second half fall away, "I frightened you for once, normally it's the other way around."

He was smiling at her and she couldn't help returning it. She had been so worried. All the talk from the doctors about the potential for memory loss, physical and mental impairment, everything that could have happened to him. And yet, here he was laying next to her, smiling as he joked and actually poked fun at the whole situation.

Ziva couldn't stop the yawn that forced it's way out of her.

"Go back to sleep, Zee. I'm sure a nurse will be here to check us both in an hour or two. Let's not tempt them to the slaughter just yet."

She was compelled to tell him about Tammy and Marianne and how that wouldn't be an issue this time, but instead she just looked at him with concern, "Promise this is not a dream and you will be here when I wake up?"

"Ooh," Tony obviously couldn't resist, "You dream about me?"

Her only response was a stoney glare as she fought the urge to slap his arm, though the glare was probably less powerful with a sleepy smile on her face.

Ziva carefully dislodged her arm from under Abby her gaze not wavering from him as she awaited the response.

"I promise." he said, voice toned down even further then they had been whispering, "close your eyes."

Ziva flexed the fingers on the hand she had just freed to wake the sleeping digits and rolled slightly onto her injured left side so she could reach out. The pain of that movement reassured her that she was in fact not dreaming this.

With her forearm resting against his, she felt the warm flesh under her thumb as she moved it gently across the soft skin near his elbow. Back and forth a few times as he adjusted himself to face her more directly and started back up with the circular pattern on her stomach.

She was still hesitant, but he whispered softly, "Trust me." and she let her eyes fall back closed, sleep came easily to her drugged and damaged body.

xoxo

McGee was tense with anticipation. He knew any minute now they would arrive at the dock nearest the mouth of the little river that would take them up stream to their prey. He felt a sense of calm settle on him at the knowledge that they were just a short boat ride up a lazy river from catching those punk kids and putting an end to all of this.

He was not too thrilled about the water mission once they hit the docks and it sank in that they would be traveling up the river on air-boats.

He had never had much of a desire to be strapped to a large fan and pushed through water, but apparently with all the debris in the swampy everglades it was not safe to run outboard motors through the area. Of course, how safe could an assault mission on a cabin in the dark through a swamp be, really?

There were six air-boats with 'Police' painted across the side and two others that were being started up as well. The manpower to take down a few punk teens would have made McGee laugh a couple of days ago, but having seen the firepower these kids have their hands on every precaution was being taken. He and Gibbs had their vests on under their NCIS windbreakers and he noted all the other officers were sporting similar attire.

Detective Thomas called them all into a group and McGee glanced at his phone where he had transferred the information on the Kindle trace to make sure nothing had changed in the last two minutes since he had looked at it.

"We're going to load up and head up the river, two men per boat, I want the boats two by two. It is about a mile up the river before we hit the curve and another 150-200 yards to the cabin."

Detective Thomas registered that everyone was with him so far. "We need the two plain clothed and unmarked air-boats to go through first, set up on the other side of the cabin and try to get a vantage point to cover us. At the same time we're going to drop anchor on two more boats and have a team of 4 go on land through the brush. The first wave will have 20 minutes to get in position, after that the rest of us will pull within view. The noise will probably draw them out of the cabin. We'll have the first wave for long range, men on the ground for surprise from behind. The second wave will take to the ground to search the cabin while the final wave comes in behind to lend tactical support and cover fire if needed."

Thomas fixed a pointed look at the group. "Because we'll be in so many locations I want definite confirmation on sightings before any shots are fired. I don't want anyone caught in the cross fire here."

Thomas looked around again, "Is everyone clear on their positions here?"

Nodding and 'Yes, Sir' was seen and heard through the crowd of more then a dozen law enforcement officers.

"We're going in on the Ground." Gibbs informed the detective, who just nodded and paired them with two of the tactical officers who had already been assigned those posts.

McGee felt his knees quake slightly as the boat roared through the water, lights shining of the surface of water that looked completely black in the night. Once they neared the curve the engines were throttled way down and the first two air-boats continued through to the larger body of water, as if out for some night fishing expedition without a care in the world.

He and Gibbs had been driven right up on grassy river bank near the bend by their tactical officer partners before the engines were cut and the four men departed the boats.

Trekking through the dense foliage and wet atmosphere of a Florida swamp would not have been McGee's ideal way to spend an evening, but he felt an internal drive pushing him past his reservations and worries about gators or mosquitoes or even poison ivy. Gibbs looked his way a few minutes into the trek and their eyes locked in the dim light of the moon, both communicating the shared knowledge that justice was just through the dense brush.

The group of four arrived at the cabin in less then 15 minutes and spread out across the back to wait for the go sign that signaled the beginning of the end for these low life pieces of garbage. Tim couldn't wait to get his hands on the scum who had some kind of hand in the death of Trevor Macey and ties to the explosion that had rocked all of their lives earlier that day.

xoxo

A/N: Wow, nearing the end and I'm feeling too excited to sleep, but I have to go to bed or I will be worthless at work tomorrow. I appreciate all the reviews and look forward to being able to stamp "Complete" on this story in the very near future.

On a side note, I wrote in the seizure by accident because it almost felt like cheating to have Tony just pass out. My daughter has Epilepsy and it's a very scarey thing to go through. I felt kind of bad making Ziva witness that, perhaps that's a sign of insanity on my part that I'm concerned about what I'm putting all of them through, but oh well.

If you want more info you can check out the Epilepsy Foundation. Oh, speaking of foundations, that one the lieutenant was a part of, Special Operations Warrior Foundation, it's a real organization, too and they really do send cards and send kids to college and help out families of the fallen. You can check them out too while you're out Googling things.

Thanks again, I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it, now I'm going to take my rambling brain to bed. . . I will try to get another update tomorrow, no promises, but at least by the next day.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Tony lay in his hospital bed, stiff and sore, with his head spinning on more than just waves of his concussion. He had watched Ziva's eyes drift closed and had to wonder how many drugs they had in that little I.V. bag that she hadn't killed him straight away on waking to find him practically molesting her in her sleep.

The thought made the movements of his hand still against her flesh, but as his mind wandered through the utter strangeness of it all his fingers began to move against her smooth skin again.

He let his thoughts drift back over the events of the last hour and how Twilight Zone it had all felt. He barely managed to restrain himself from laughing out loud at the silly thoughts and even sillier actions, but mostly in relief that he was still alive and not critically wounded by the enigma that was his partner.

He had woke in the dark room, mind a blank slate for the barest of seconds before the explosion, the cold water and that damn sand all came rushing back to him. Despite the genetic predispositions pounded into his head about the DiNozzo name, it appeared that he had actually passed out. And now it was dark outside? Weird, but that must have been one hell of a smack to the head.

The fogginess in his brain cleared enough to register the Hospital room the sound of machines beeping faintly and a whirring noise usually associated with oxygen delivery, but he had no mask on his face.

The pieces had started to fall back into place. They were in Florida, far from their friends, there would be no one to visit him. No one, but Ziva, but the chairs looked as if they were unmoved from the generic positioning around a small table.

Would she leave him alone at the hospital? It was possible. It was at least preferable to the other thought that crossed over from the back of his mind a moment later. Maybe she wasn't able to be there.

Had he been so out of it that he didn't even realize she was injured? Wait, hadn't she said she couldn't swim to shore? Then she had not only had to swim to live, but she had to carry his ass back to shore, too.

Tony closed his eyes against the onslaught of negative thoughts that poured into his brain at that moment. He couldn't think around the pounding in his head that was most likely from a concussion. It wasn't helping matters that in a few brief seconds he had worked himself up into such a frenzy that his blood was pulsing loudly through his body, rushing through his ears.

Tony had turned his face away from the machines in an attempt to block some of the light that emanated from them and perhaps alleviate some of the pain of having his eyes open. Ziva was sleeping, Abby curled around her, both mere inches from him. He probably wouldn't have been more surprised if he had opened his eyes to see Gibbs lying next to him so closely.

As he continued to catalog his surroundings he found himself still in a Twilight Zone style haze and racked his brain for insight that wasn't forthcoming. Finally, his injured brain settled on the unsettling thought that he was still unconscious and this was some kind of fake awakening. A tease just to drive him insane while he was unable to do anything to combat it.

Definitely not a good sign of the implications of his injury and wait a minute. Why, if he was going to dream anything during this stint in unconsciousness, did it have to be these two women?

And, if he was going to dream them, why would they be 'sort of' in bed with him, but mostly in bed with each other and still have their clothes on? Was it a sign of maturity that his dream mind didn't have them in some state of disarray making out with each other and enticing him to join them?

Was it a respect thing, or some kind of personal hurdle he had made it through in his state of mind that allowed him to not be so basic and instinct driven, even in slumber? Or perhaps there was a semblance of consciousness seeping into his unconscious mind that was telling him it was a bad time to be sporting sure signs of an erotic dream?

Who was in the room with him, really and how long would he lay in limbo waiting for true consciousness to makes itself known.

Shrugging off the swirling thoughts, Tony carefully dislodged his hand from Abby's grasp where she had him pinned to the sheets beside Ziva's hip.

He found himself rolling to his side, oh so carefully, because apparently even sleep movement made his head throb mercilessly.

He was confused once again by his less than stellar imagination as he took in the face of his partner. No make-up, hair a tangled mess of flyaways and errant curls everywhere, oxygen tubes in her nose, dressed in simple hospital scrubs. Come on brain, seriously? He thought as his eyes scanned across her disheveled appearance.

It was then that he spotted that small olive patch of skin where Ziva's shirt had drifted up as she slept. The merest scrap of flesh exposed, nothing sensual about it aside from it being naked skin. He tentatively reached out a hand to rub his fingers across the soft flesh there.

His hand had just barely touched the smooth skin when he noticed an angry purple bruise peeking out from under the hem of her shirt. Tony's mind started to spark and make the connection that he really was awake.

As weird of a position as this was to wake in, probably weirder than anything he could have imagined even in his sleep, that feeling against his fingers couldn't be anything but real. Could it?

And if he truly were awake?

His fingers absently stroked along her skin as he contemplated how he could have ended up here, like this, with her skin under his fingers, warm and soft and both of them still breathing.

The breathing part, he recalled was all thanks to her. The skin under his fingers, well that was because he couldn't resist the temptation, couldn't stop the light swirling across the bare expanse.

Barely more than an inch of flesh and he was completely absorbed, a rare state of focus he usually reserved for investigating a case or enjoying a really great movie.

But how was she here? She was obviously injured, so why is she not in her own room? How did she convince the staff to arrange this type of situation?

He answered his own question. She is Ziva David, tough as nails and scary as hell. If you go against her you do not live long. He almost laughed at the thought, and then he froze.

He had been playing with fire. His fingers dancing on her flesh like little figure skaters, around and around in loops and eights and when she woke up, he had better have his hands to himself if he wanted to keep them.

She would surely kill or castrate him for the intrusion on her personal space and the assault on her flesh. But feeling the heat of his motionless fingers against her, he began to move them again, barely a brush at first and then he was distracted looking at her face again and continued the random pattern of earlier.

After what seemed an eternity, he watched her eyes crack slightly open and his heart raced with a mixture of fear and exhilaration. If she was awake she was alright and she was probably going to kill him.

He didn't stop moving though, it was relaxing him and it was almost therapeutic in a completely ridiculous way. He was using the touch to calm him from fear of what she would do to him for touching her like this. He almost laughed, but didn't want to startle her.

He watched as she gave Abby a warm smile, and then looked down at his hand, gently caressing her bare skin and she got an intense look of confusion on her face before her eyes shot to his. 

He saw the surprise in her eyes, not the surprise he had been expecting, a different kind. A kind that didn't end with him getting punched in the nose.

"Tony?"

He shivered at the sound of his name on her lips. He'd never heard it spoken quite like that before. He'd never heard that tone in her voice, either. It sounded as if she were thinking she wasn't awake either, like he had felt a moment ago on seeing her and confirming she wasn't dead, but with an under layer of hope.

He began to wonder how long he had to have been out to elicit that reaction from her and he immediately blocked it, not wanting to think about it he turned to humor.

He had tried to ask her how she was doing, wanting to know if she was hurt or if she would be OK and all he got was the brush off. That's Ziva, he found himself thinking, unable to accept someone's concern. She didn't do well with getting help from people either, even when she needed it. Independent and stubborn to the extreme.

Later when she revealed he had a seizure on the beach and her eyes sang with the fear and anguish of the moment, he couldn't stop the apology from falling out of his mouth. He could nearly feel her pain as she explained as if it were an actual physical ache in his body.

The moment of clarity and connection passed and it was right back to deflecting. She really was making that very hard with her quiet confessions and that gentle tone as she spoke to him, but it was all very unsettling.

This was not the tough as nails Ziva he knew. She looked almost scared, hell, she had actually said out loud that she had been frightened. This must be worse than he thought. And when she yawned he was relieved in that moment. He took it as an opening and suggested she go back to sleep.

It was a lot easier just him and his thoughts, not having to answer to the concern and fear behind her normally strong and sure brown eyes.

To his surprise she asked him to make her a promise. Her voice quiet and uncertain, like a scared child. He had tried again to deflect the emotion of the situation that was threatening to overtake him, but the glare with a little expectant smile had been his undoing. He couldn't do this. It wasn't a joking matter. She was baring her soul and the least he could do was stay in the moment and not try to run away from it or hide behind some asinine comment.

His throat tightened as his brain suffered through the unsettling feelings of knowing she wanted him to comfort her, promise that everything was going to be alright.

So he promised her and watched as she relaxed instantly from his words. She rolled towards him and he didn't miss the flash of pain that moved across her face at the movement. But then she reached out. Her fingers were gliding delicately up his arm, tickling the hairs as they moved towards his body. She stopped, resting her arm against his and began to toy absently with the skin just above the crook of his elbow. He moved into her touch, closer to the edge of his bed, not caring that the adjustment hurt like hell.

She was still giving him that look that said she wasn't sure he'd keep his promise. "Trust me." he had said and he didn't know what part of this whole tangled mess he had been talking about her trusting him through, but she seemed satisfied and closed her eyes.

Sleep was far from his grasp as he lay there, fingers rubbing her delicate skin, watching her sleep and wondering what the hell had just happened.

xoxo

Gibbs breathed heavily the musty, earthy scents of the swamp as the boat slid over the water and wind whipped his face. There was no communication over the loud fans propelling their boats through the swampy river, but that was fine by him.

The shaking of their craft as it made landfall pulled him out of the blank stare he was giving the mirrored black surface of the water as his brain plotted the million ways this could go.

The four men started through the thickly overgrown vegetation.

Gibbs had been assigned a SWAT partner, officer Mitchell Walden. When he found out the young man was still relatively new to the job he was glad he was the one partnered with the newer agent, giving McGee a little experience to watch his back. Walden did not speak much, but moved with purpose and Gibbs liked that about his personal guide through the swampland.

McGee had also been given a partner. Officer Henry Olson, the more experienced 12 year veteran of the Miami police seemed to be inclined to subdued conversation, but had stopped talking about 5 minutes into their adventure through the foliage.

Gibbs wasn't sure if he'd stopped because no one had responded, or just because they were getting closer now, either way he didn't care. He caught McGee's eyes over a particularly spiny and menacing looking plant and noted the steel resolve that reflected back at him.

That look of determination and focus made Gibbs feel proud of the young man for a moment. He was not walking in on shaky legs, though he had been minutes earlier as they stepped off the boat. His agent was going in with his head held high, ready to reign down hell on those who had hurt his friends.

Gibbs caught himself having the momentary thought that, despite how much he wanted to rip the faces off these teens, he might have to reign in his own fury to make sure McGee doesn't do anything stupid that could damage his career.

He braces himself as they make finally approach to the cabin and fall into position to wait. Checking his weapon Gibbs takes in the scenery. The sights and sounds, the lit windows in the cabin, the music wafting on the cool night breeze.

Suddenly the sound of fan boats getting closer breaches his ears and he knows it's time to roll out.

They crept quietly closer to the cabin, no sign of activity inside other than the music and lights as they ducked to pass below a window on the back portion of the house. The small group was hugging the wall of the house to prevent anyone inside spotting them in the thin stream of light that filtered out the window.

As they rounded they all pulled up near the back door, Gibbs took the lead. He had relegated it the the SWAT boys earlier, but that was more to do with him knowing his own personal limitations. He didn't know this swamp and was fine with following the local cops this far.

Now that they were here, right outside the door on the final approach, he was taking the reigns back. He signaled for McGee and Olson to take the back while he and Walden crept quietly around the front.

As soon as they heard the metal bottoms of the fan boat scrape across the dirt and rocks on the shoreline just in front of the house, Gibbs takes a steadying breath. He notes that men are disembarking from the boats heading their way quickly and quietly. He raises his foot as they near his position and kicks in the wooden front door.

Nearly at the same moment he hears the back door come crashing in as well. Good timing McGee. He found himself thinking in the split second before all hell broke loose.

The rapid fire sound of an automatic weapon had him diving for cover and tackling Walden in a single motion as the door frame was peppered with bullets where they had just been standing, spraying wood in all directions.

Gibbs felt the splintered wood spraying down on him at the same moment he heard McGee's strangled shout from inside the building.

He rolled off the officer he had tackled and readied himself to enter the house. The sound of gun fire was still sporadic, but he had a drive to get to his agent that wasn't going to be held back by something as mundane as a couple of spoiled rich kids with automatic weapons.

xoxo

McGee felt his heart racing right along with his mind as he approached the back door of the cabin. He was feeling almost bipolar in his thought process. Concern followed by Faith. Fear followed by calm. Anxiety followed by Hope. He tried to clear his mind in the final seconds before they would overtake the cabin.

He let his senses take in all of his surroundings in an attempt to block the warring thoughts and feeling swirling in his head. They were threatening to overpower his concentration with compare and contrast imagery that he would have treasured last week at his typewriting, but was threatening to undo his settled state at the moment.

Tim's gaze settle on the tattered wood of the door, mind registering that this, for once, would be an easy door to kick in. The door had seen better days and had been warn, warped and was rotting along the bottom.

The wet smell of the swamp was of putting. He had always envisioned swamps with alligators, West Nile virus carrying mosquitoes, and snakes. Never, in all the time he had thought of swamps had he considered the smell. Perhaps he shouldn't judge all swamps based on this one, but it was hard not to narrow his focus.

He could smell the wet in the air. It was nothing like a fresh rain in the city. It made him think more of his laundry. When he forgot that he put it in the washer until 2 days later when he went to wash something else. The scent tickled his nose and he fought the urge to sneeze.

His ears attuned to the distant rattle of the approaching air-boats, were also registering the sounds of the night. Rap music filtering out from inside the residence, the lyrics may have made him blush if it weren't for his intense, single-minded focus.

His ears tuned in on the sounds of the breeze blowing through the branches and various nocturnal insects and animals coming awake in the dense forestry surrounding the little cabin.

He felt the weight of his gun in his hand, solid, steady, the metal having warmed from his grasp.

It felt good. It felt right.

His breathing steadied as he focused more intently on the sounds around him, hearing the exact moment when the boats hit the shore, scraping along the rocks and sand. He counted to five so the arriving forces had an opportunity to get out of the boats and start towards the cabin.

On five, McGee kicked at the sorry excuse for a door and pieces of the wood flew in several directions. The force of the kick against the weakened wood of the door caused it to nearly fly off its hinges.

The door quickly snapped open, enough for McGee's brain to register something was wrong before the door bounced off the wall inside the house and hastily slammed closed again, dangling precariously on it's last hinge.

Before he could respond to what he had seen inside on that brief moment the sound of Automatic gunfire rang through the air and splinters flew in his face as bullets sprayed his body.

The force knocked him back into Officer Olson, down the two small steps to the back porch and flat on his back in the dirt.

He was suddenly gasping for air in nearly the exact spot he had stood a moment before as he mused on the sights, sounds, smells of this place.

The bullets hadn't stopped flying, but below the sound of gun fire was the realization that everything in the forest had gone quiet and the silence, broken by shouting and gunfire was unsettling.

xoxo

A/N: Wow... that one was hard to write and WAY longer then I expected. Most of it was a repeat of the previous chapter just in Tony's brain, so I hope you found it different enough from the previous one.

Hope to hear what you think, but mostly just hope you like it and I get to have something else posted tonight or tomorrow.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

McGee's breath seemed to be on pause as the whole world slowed down around him. He couldn't inhale. He couldn't exhale.

It felt like an excruciatingly long time before he was able to suck in a fresh breath. From the way Olson jumped to his feet in nearly slow motion McGee realized his brain was hyper-processing the events around him.

Aside from the shortness of breath and pressure in his chest he didn't feel any pain and after a full tight breath in and out and dared a look down at his body.

Oh, God! He loved Kevlar. As he rolled and moved to get up on shaky legs somewhere in the back of his mind he developed completely inappropriate, bordering on erotic, ties to the material swathing his chest.

Heart still beating a mile a minute he tightened his grip on the gun in his hands and took up position on the left side of the swaying tatters of the back door, Olson on the right. The other man kicked the door without stepping in front of it and finally the tired wood fell of it's last rusted hinge, loudly slamming onto the floor.

McGee heard gunfire still emanating from the house, but nothing seemed to be coming their direction.

Olson gestured for McGee to go high and he'd go low. On Olson's nod they swiveled into the doorway, guns trained in front of them.

They entered through the kitchen, McGee moving forward with purpose, eyes trained down the sight of his gun. Olson diverted from his side, moving towards the right of the room where there was a closed door.

He tried to control his breathing, but the tightness in his chest was just too much and he was relegated to quick short breaths. He was sure if this wasn't over soon he'd hyperventilate. He pushed the thought aside as his eyes scanned the opening in front of him.

To the right of living room there was another door, this one hanging partially open, but the sound of gunfire seemed to be coming from the other side of the room around the blind spot from the wall he had taken up next to.

As he rounded the corner gun level he saw the two suspects barricaded behind a couch that wouldn't be much for coverage if it weren't for the fact that no one could get a shot off from the front of the cabin with the heavy fire they were laying down.

His eyes fell on the boys and he saw that Boyle had paused to reload, Rodriguez increased his rate of fire while his partner in crime quickly slammed a clip in his gun.

Before Boyle could pull his weapon back up to firing position McGee forced a word out of his mouth, surprised at how difficult it had been, "Freeze!"

The pair paused for the briefest of moments as if they were surprised about someone sneaking up behind them. The pause gave Gibbs a moment to pop up as if out of nowhere, but before his boss could get a shot off McGee saw the trigger finger on Rodriguez's hand start moving to mow down Gibbs in the doorway.

Impressed with the eery feeling that everything was happening so slowly, Tim pulled off two quick shots.

The sound seemed to spark Boyle into action and he dove, tucking into a roll as he turned his weapon on McGee. In a split second McGee's eyes and weapon darted from the falling body of Rodriguez and he found himself looking down the barrel of a gun for the second time that night. For some reason there wasn't a moments hesitation or fear.

At the same moment he heard the sound of gunfire crack in the room, he pulled off two more shots. As he dropped to his knees gasping for air, his brain replayed the sound.

Four total, there had been another two shots at the same moment he fired.

xoxo

Gibbs was crouched in a striking position a few feet from the door as what seemed an endless stream of bullets peppered the door frame and whizzed through the night air.

He heard groans as a few of the SWAT officers fell before everyone moved to the sides out of the direct line of fire dragging the injured men to safety. Some stopped mid-assault to tend the wounded while others gathered along the outside wall of the building.

Gibbs couldn't help the sense of relief that these were just dumb kids who didn't think about the fact that they could spray bullets through the walls and mow down the entire swarm of officers with the firepower they were using.

Unfortunately, they might have agents inside, so they couldn't just shoot through the walls either. They needed to have their sights on a definite target before they would fire, not wanting to have any more officer's down on this one.

The relief was short lived as McGee's strangled cry played through his head.

He gestured for a couple of men to go around the back. As he had a couple others flank him. He could have an agent in there bleeding out right now and the longer they stayed here the more chance the boy would die before Gibbs had the chance to tell him he was a good agent and he was proud of him.

He had counted out 1 and 2, but before he could get to 3 he heard a familiar voice shouting a strained "Freeze." from inside and the gunfire stopped.

Gibbs took the three steps to the door quicker than his old knees should have been able to move and he was inside the door within the span of just a moment.

His gun swept the room before it was trained on Boyle, but from the corner of his eyes he registered a slight movement.

Before he could change targets he watched Rodriguez's chest burst, blood spraying the walls as the boy crumpled to the floor at the same moment that he felt and heard more than saw Boyle roll out of his aim and train his gun on the officer who had been standing behind him.

Gibbs didn't immediately register it was McGee until he had pulled off two shots into Boyle's chest. He shot two, but his ears heard four.

He watched as both Boyle and McGee crumpled to the floor. Boyle landed on his face, his life blood seeping out in an ever growing circle around where is body had landed.

He took in McGee's face, covered with blood, his gun had fallen to his side, dragging across the floor with a loud scraping sound. It took just another moment for Gibbs to realize that his young agent was panting fiercely.

Silence engulfed them all as Tim watched the still eerily slow motion of Boyle fall. Oddly he did not feel the same sense of loss he had on the first time he'd had to use his gun with lethal results. A strange sense of calm settled over him as Gibbs approached him.

Walden and what seemed an army of men began to quickly sweep the rest of the house.

Gibbs caught his eye, a reassuring smile on his face as he reached Tim and he felt his bosses hand on his shoulder just as Olson came back from the kitchen tugging a third boy with him.

McGee caught sight of the teen and strode purposefully towards him, before he realized what he was doing he had landed a solid punch across the boy's face.

Apparently, the action surprised the other officers and his boss as well, because as McGee followed the teen to the ground he was able to land three more solid punches before his boss pulled him off the unconscious body.

In a strong bear hug Gibbs dragged him away from the boy and held him as he struggled to to continue the assault.

Tim felt downright feral. The urge to smash and beat and demolish the unconscious boy overwhelmed him and he felt pure rage and hatred.

Gibbs dragged his younger agent out the front door, away from the scene of the bruised, bleeding teen and the two others now dead on the floor.

Tim could have sworn he heard Gibbs whisper, "Good job, Tim." as he was dragged from of the bullet riddled cabin and back into the darkness.

When Gibbs finally released him his legs no longer wanted to hold him. McGee wobbled precariously and in some morbid variation of a 'trust fall' the weight of his body became too much for him and he fell back into Gibbs.

Gibbs was barely able to catch the younger man as he fell back into him. It wasn't that he was weak or Tim was too terribly heavy, especially after having worked so hard to slim down.

It was just a shock to watch the waves of Tim's energy. First the fall to the ground exhausted, then launching himself with surprising force and quickness on the only surviving teen in the house and beating him senseless. Now here he was, falling back down again.

Gibbs held him inches off the ground before finally deciding it was probably best to just let him lay there. He gently settled Tim onto the damp grass and mossy surfaces in front of the house and finally allowed himself to take in his agent's condition.

"Are you hurt?"

Tim just stared at him a moment before shaking his head no.

Gibbs didn't buy that. His agent was still breathing shallow, halting breaths, face grimacing in pain whenever he pulled in a full breath, but Gibbs wasn't pushing.

"Your face is bleeding." he stated, hoping that would bring his agent back to the present so they could address any issues.

"Just some splinters from the door."

"You, too, huh?"

McGee laughed, a humorless expression, more of relief than any kind of comedic value, "I was just glad they didn't realize they could shoot through the walls just as easily as they did the doors."

"You and me both, Tim."

The stayed there a while in silence, McGee slowly getting his breathing under control as he lay under the perceptive eyes of his boss.

"Had a kinda crazy thought right after they shot me." McGee saw the surprise in the eyes of his boss as that intense expression began scanning across him looking for the damage and he realized that Gibbs hadn't actually been with him and there was probably a better way to break that news.

He didn't give Gibbs a chance to say anything before he continued. "I thought if this vest had a mouth I would kiss it. . . Actually, it was a little more graphically dirty than that, but, you know." he finished nervously, not sure why he was telling anyone about that random flash of crazy, much less Gibbs.

Gibbs laughed at that. Sometimes Tim said the strangest things, but he couldn't stop the pride in his agent. His eyes scanned the four dimples in the man's vest, three of which still had the bullets buried in the fabric.

"I think I'm having withdrawals from Tony's crude humor, Boss."

"Yep." was his simple response.

As if that simple exchange had actually been a completely different discussion, they let the Miami police have the bullets in McGee's vest and work the scene as they caught a ride on the air-boats that were leaving with the other injured officers.

The ride out of the swamp was not nearly as frightening as the ride in had been. McGee assumed that staring down death two times in the last half hour made the initial uneasiness of the simple boat ride seem pretty silly in retrospect.

As Gibbs set the brisk pace from the dock back to where he had parked earlier that day, the adrenaline was starting to wear off.

McGee, coming down from the emotional intensity of it all, started to register his various aches and pains. "That's not very fun, huh?" he asked looking down at the vest.

"Nope. Vests stop the bullet, can't stop the force, though."

"Yeah, inertia."he said the word as if it were to blame for all of this.

Gibbs nodded in response as they climbed in the car.

"Boss," Tim's voice sounded weak even to his own ears as he tried to work the buckle in the passenger seat, but couldn't get it to work.

He prepared himself for a lecture or a head slap, a reprimand or the demand for his weapon until his actions were reviewed. Pushing it all aside he finally spoke despite his reservations. "I think I broke my hand on his face."

Gibbs chuckled a little under his breath, shaking his head as he reached over and helped McGee buckle the seat belt. "You did good, Tim."

"Even the part where I smashed in someone's face?"

"Yep, even that."

McGee smiled as Gibbs began driving them away from that godforsaken swap.

Tim couldn't help the wave of confidence he felt wash over him and finally allowed his brain to register that look he was seeing in his bosses eyes, that had been ther a few times earlier in the case.

Gibbs was proud. Proud of him. It was nearly too much to take in with everything else that was going on.

xoxo

A/N: Only a couple/few chapters to go. I am excited that I will probably be done before the weekend is over, so check back daily for updates. Thanks for reading.

On a side note, anyone have thoughts on something the team can do in Florida while they wait for medical clearance to fly again?


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

Abby's eyes fluttered open as she fought the scream welling in her chest from her nightmare. Heart racing with remnants of fear from the dream, she slowly disentangled herself from Ziva as she made to get up.

The scene that greeted her upon gently moving off the bed and standing up made her almost forget about the nightmare she had just had, almost.

Abby's heart fluttered for an entirely different purpose as she realized Tony must have woken while she was sleeping. He was rolled over on his side, arm out towards where she and Ziva were sleeping and hand relaxed across Ziva's hip.

When Abby stood up, no longer supporting Ziva from behind, she watch as her friend rolled to her back, hand sliding from where it had been on Tony's upper arm to his forearm.

Her fingers moved across Tony's arm. Even in sleep it was as if the fingers were trying to adjust to the change from smooth skin to the tickle of little hairs and settled after a brief moment.

As Ziva shifted to her back, Tony's hand slid off her hip, but he adjusted it, splaying his fingers across Ziva's stomach, her shirt blocking his digits. He seemed to register the change from skin to fabric in his sleep and his fingers brushed gently back and forth twice before all 5 digits were on bare skin, thumb moving absently for another moment before he seemed to slip back to a full deep sleep.

Abby was pretty sure they would both kill her upon waking in this position, but she just shrugged, it was kinda cute. She had never figured either one as a cuddler, but as a scientist she had to accept the facts in evidence.

If it weren't for the 2-inch gap between the hospital beds, she was sure they would probably have gravitated the whole way into each others arms.

She had always thought their bickering was already like an old married couple, the cute type that had been together for 50 years and still smiled into the others eyes like they were teenagers on a first date. But she knew neither was really interested in the other on more personal levels, for oh so many reasons. She had nudged and hinted once, OK half a dozen times or so, but they were both adamant.

Which is why waking up actually in the type of precarious position a bed with no gaps would have caused would clearly end with her even more dead than she was already going to be for pushing the two beds this close.

Abby's eyes flickered back as the movement of Tony's hand started again before stilling and she had the sudden thought of angry crescent shapes in skin on Tim's hand earlier.

She reached for her phone, knowing she couldn't call him because of the impending op, but feeling it in her hand and willing it to ring. She had just grabbed her Caf-Pow!, now well past warm when the phone in her hand lit up and sang out. The sudden noise surprised her enough that she almost dropped the drink. She answered the phone quickly saying "Hang on." and watch as Tony and Ziva's hands both stroked across the others skin before settling again.

She stepped out into the hall and told McGee to go on. He sounded out of breath and there was a strained note in his voice "We're on our way back to the hospital. We got them, Abby. We got the bastards."

"What aren't you telling me."

Tim's breathing was heavy in her ear and she starting talking absently about crank phone calls with heavy breathing, but then Gibbs came on the line and she was surprised out of the errant thought.

"He can't talk right now."

Her heart was thudding in her chest, but she couldn't get any words out. Not Tim, too. "What's going on, Gibbs."

"Everything is fine." his calm tone reassured her, because Gibbs knew better than to lie to her, especially about something important. "How are Tony and Ziva?"

Abby felt herself relax against the wall outside their room. If Gibbs was asking about the others he wasn't in any kind of life or death situation with McGee. "Tony woke up."

"What's the damage?"

She heard the tightness in his voice, the tension of the moment seemed to seep straight through the phone lines, "I don't know, but he was awake and now he's asleep again."

"What do you mean you don't know? Did he say anything, how's his memory?"

"I don't know, I wasn't awake when he woke up. I know he did, because coma people don't roll around in their sleep."

"It's alright, Abby, we'll work it out when we get there."

"How long?"

"Should be there in five." just the barest facts and nothing more. She knew he was hiding something.

"Tell me what's going on, Gibbs."

There was a long silence and she could imaging the two men on the other side of the line having a silent conversation, so she just waited for them to come to some kind of agreement.

"Meet us in Emergency."

This time the drink fell out of her hands, visions of the dream coming back to her before she could register that she really had spoken with McGee just a moment before so he couldn't be dead, not possible.

Then the drink hit the ground and sticky mess splattered all over the ground as the contents of the cup burst free.

A couple of nurses, hearing the commotion rushed in her direction before setting up a perimeter of orange cones and calling maintenance to come clean up the spill.

Hand shaking, Abby finished the call and headed downstairs. She was waiting outside when Gibbs pulled up and she saw Tim's face immediately. He was literally covered in blood.

It didn't look like it was spilling out of him at a very quick rate, but nonetheless it was leaving a mess across his face and shirt, leaving her to wonder why neither had bothered to do anything to stop the bleeding.

"What the hell are you thinking?" she asked as she grabbed a handkerchief from her pocket, pressing it against the largest gash along his forehead.

"Tried, Abs." Gibbs said with a shrug.

"I'm fine, Abby, it's just a couple of scratches." he had that smile in his voice that said he would be humoring her the overprotective mother hen clucking, but it was not necessary.

She gave him a glare as she applied more pressure than needed to the wound, and watched him wince. "If you could see yourself, you'd disagree."

She turned on her heel and led the way back into the hospital emergency room, her brain vaguely registering that Tim took the kerchief to hold on his head with his non-dominant left hand while his right arm was pulled protectively into his chest..

As she and McGee sat in the plastic chairs to wait for Tim to be called back from the waiting room, Gibbs hovered.

"You gonna be alright, Tim?"

"Yeah, go ahead, Boss."

Gibbs looked to Abby and it took her a moment to realize he wanted to know where to find his other agents.

She gave him the room number, but it wasn't until he was gone that she realized she probably should have told him what to expect and explained her hand in the situation, but it was too late and she felt herself sliding down in her seat as if she were trying to hide inside the sturdy plastic.

Tim was looking at her for a moment, intently and waiting for her to reveal what she had done to try to hide with a guilty look on her face. Fortunately before he actually asked and she had to explain a nurse called him in to a room.

Tim answered the nurse's questions about symptoms and injuries, explaining what happened as Abby sat there next to him, struck into silence as he explained. Multiple gunshots, splintered wood embedded in his flesh and what he suspected was a broken hand. But it wasn't the revelation of each injury that had her watching him with extreme pride and a hint of wonder, it was the sequence of events.

The nurse asked him to get changed into a hospital gown and she would be back shortly. Abby was going to leave him, but noticed after the windbreaker slipped off and to the ground that he was struggling with the remaining garments.

Abby moved to him immediately and, ignoring the hesitation in Tim's eyes she carefully went to work. She pulled the Velcro tabs securing his vest and carefully maneuvered it off his injured body.

She went to work on the buttons of his shirt, making sure the two at his cuffs were undone before slipping the shirt carefully off his shoulders and down past his hands.

Tim winced as the fabric moved across his injured hand and Abby couldn't stop her own grimace. She hated being the one to hurt him. Perhaps she should just cut the clothes off, so she didn't have to contend with his injuries.

She had, apparently, been standing there in silence for too long, because Tim gave her a little smile and raised his arms in the air to signal her to remove his undershirt. She complied on instinct, fingers gingerly grabbing the hem of his shirt and carefully moving the fabric up and over his head. She watched intently to make sure his broken hand made it through the hole of the shirt without much jarring.

Once her eyes settled on his torso, she couldn't stop the gasp that spilled from her mouth or the tears that instantly sprang to her eyes. Her vision, blurred by the fresh tears, couldn't take in his injuries anymore, but the second she had spotted them they were burned into her brain.

She blinked back the tears, setting her shoulders with determination she re-examined the injuries, trying to pull in her analytical brain and block out, as much as she could, who this was that she was examining.

There were four distinct welts on his skin, each red and raised, about the size of a quarter. What was most alarming, however was that each of the welts had a bruise formulating between the size of a baseball and a softball. The one low on his chest, left of center in the softer tissue of his abdomen had a softball sized bruise forming and just above and to the right of that was another, the following two were also above and to the right of the last.

"They had automatic weapons?"

Tim nodded, not sure what she was seeing as the tears dissipated from her eyes and she fixed him with a look as her scientist brain kicked into full gear.

"The shooter was not used to the weapon, not sure of or comfortable with firing it."

"They looked really comfortable from where I was standing."

Abby just shook her head. "This angle looks like the kick of the weapon brought their aim up slightly each time a bullet fired."

She made a little gun out of her hands and pointed to each shot. "These are almost straight up your body, it wasn't a normal spraying of bullets by anyone comfortable with their automatic weapon, each shot higher than the last."

Abby pointed at the last shot, her hand shaking ever so slightly until Tim capture the shaking digits in his good hand and gave a gentle squeeze.

"I'm okay, Abby."

She leaned forward and gently kissed above the highest welt, the one that was near his collar bone and when she spoke she found she couldn't look up from that spot. "A quarter inch, Timmy."

He looked at her with a puzzled expression, but she really didn't want to say what was swirling in her mind, so she broke out old faithful. The look she would always give Tim to get him to stop trying to pry information out of her.

He didn't relent or back down and she noted a new sense of settled resolve and determination. Apparently, after going all Rambo, he was no longer afraid of speaking his mind or pushing the issues with her.

She ducked her head and whispered, "A quarter inch to the left and you would have bled out in two minutes."

xoxo

Gibbs was glad that Abby had stayed with Tim. He already felt terrible leaving his agents alone in the hospital with only one person to take turns visiting with them. He didn't want to do that to McGee, too.

Gibbs knew first hand that neither Tony nor Ziva appreciated being stuck in bed, and would already be growing tired of distracting themselves when there was so little to do in a hospital. He would be surprised if they weren't already climbing the walls.

Having to share the distracting attention of a single person had to be frustrating both of them and he was ready to tell them that someone would be able to stay with them at all times now that they had mostly wrapped up the case.

There were still some finishing touches and an interrogation to run, but they had caught the little bastards and now they could take turns making rounds between here and the police department.

Gibbs was lost in thought as he reached the room number Abby had given him. He wondered absently which one's room this was. Knowing Abby it was whoever she had left most recently, she was more than a little distracted with McGee at the moment.

Gibbs turned the door handle and walked into the dimly lit room. What he was expecting was anything but what he actually saw on stepping fully into the room.

His two agents were lying on their own hospital beds, but the two were pushed together, making them more like a single large bed. A single large bed that they were both snuggled together on.

Ziva's hand was on Tony's arm, Tony's arm around Ziva, resting with way too much familiarity and comfort across bare skin on the female agent's stomach.

Gibbs took in the scene in a fraction of a second and his stern voice as he snapped, "What the hell is this?" set off a chain reaction.

As he watched the two agent's eyes popped open.

From their positions on the bed, facing each other, their eyes locked for a fraction of a second as if both trying to figure out what had startled them awake.

As if realizing at the exact same moment they both quickly pulled back their hands from each other and immediately sat to greet their boss, who was standing angrily near the feet of their beds.

It all happened in the space of seconds and then, as if choreographed, each let loose a strangled cry as extreme pain shadowed their faces and they fell back against their pillows with twin groans of anguish.

Gibbs noted the rapid beating their hearts registered on the machines they were each hooked to and the ragged breathing meant to control the pain each was feeling.

Ah, Hell. He thought, as he turned back around and stormed out of the room.

xoxo

A/N: I may have jumped the gun on saying only a couple chapters left. Looks like there will be a couple more than that, because I have some case stuff, some down time and to get them all back to the bullpen so I can put them all back where I got them from..

Haven't heard too much from you guys lately, wondering if there are more then 2 people still reading or even enjoying this? I hope so. Wouldn't want to disappoint.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Tim felt Abby's fingers on his injured skin.

He knew even the featherlight touch should hurt, and he couldn't wrap his brain around why it wasn't registering as painful. He felt numb. He knew he was distracted. Tim's eyes were locked on his discarded vest lying over the foot of his hospital bed.

For the first time he noticed exactly how close the tattered bullet hole was to the seam of the vest. The bullet had just barely hit the protective covering and he felt a shiver as Abby's words repeated in his head.

A quarter of an inch.

Two minutes.

He knew the situation hadn't gone as smoothly as it could have. He knew it had been pretty bad, getting shot was never good. Some of the officers had been dealt flesh wounds in the assault on the cabin, but a quarter of an inch and there would have been a death.

He would have bled out in two minutes. During a mission there would have been no one tending him as he passed on. No one to give a final statement to or pass a message to his family, his friends, Abby.

He would just be gone.

He shivered at the thoughts and Abby's gaze moved from his chest to his eyes. The expression on her face was complex.

Her eyes were soft and rimmed with red from tears she had been fighting. The pressure of everything from the past day was causing her brow to furrow. He was surprised but the contrast of her cheeks flushed pink looking bright against her pale features. And her mouth. Her mouth was curled up, just the barest hint of a smile and her bottom lip was trembling.

He felt her hands trembling as they moved to rest on his shoulder, probably too scared to hug him after the Ziva incident.

Neither spoke, but he couldn't take his eyes off the trembling of her lower lip as his mind played her words in his head.

_Would have bled out in two minutes._

As if pulled by something inside himself that wasn't communicating with the coherent and self preservation portions of his mind, Tim found himself leaning directly into Abby's personal bubble.

He watched her lip still as their breath mingled and he was so close he could feel the heat of her before they even touched.

For the second time that night, a quarter inch stood between him and potential death, but he didn't back down this time as he closed the last tiny gap between them and captured her lips with his own.

It was the longest second of his life as he wondered if she would respond in kind or if she would shut him out again.

He felt her hands glide up from his shoulder, one resting on his neck the other tangling in his hair and his breath caught in his throat.

Silently begging her not to shut him out this time he reached his hand up to cup her cheek as he deepened their kiss only to pull away on a gasp as his brain registered the pain. He had reached out on instinct with his dominant hand, remembering too late that it was broken. The sudden change from blossoming emotion to sudden pain sent a wave of shock through him.

"That was stupid." Tim said on a wince.

He watched her face, took in her ragged breathing, couldn't tell what she was thinking behind her dark heavily lidded eyes, as she moved away from him. "Yes, it was."

And again Tim was feeling the familiar ache of insecurity. He didn't understand what she meant. He knew he had meant reaching out with his hand was stupid, but did she think him reaching out at all had been the part that was so wrong?

xoxo

Ziva couldn't breath from the pain in her chest. Intense pressure back in place as if it never left hours before and she saw white spots swim through her field of vision.

"You alright?" she hears the strained voice from beside her.

She isn't sure she can answer, but manages a strained, "Yeah, you?"

"Sure." after a brief pause he adds, "Well, that went well."

She would probably laugh at the play on words, knowing how it all must have looked to Gibbs. With the knowledge that they had 100% confirmation that their boss was wrong. A man who you never bet against because he never was, and just then he had jumped to conclusions that were far from the actual situation.

She would laugh, but she couldn't. She couldn't breath.

A nurse sweeps quickly into the room in the wake of Gibbs leaving and to Ziva's surprise, doesn't move to Tony who has been out cold for so long.

No one had checked him since he woke up and she was sure the nurse would finally do that, but the fuzzy part of her brain registered that mask being moved back towards her face as the nasal cannula is removed and before she knows what's going on the room is buzzing with activity as the walls swayed and rocked.

She feels Tony's hand grasping hers tightly at her side as the nurses move quickly around her. She squeezes his hand as she fights for breath. Suddenly she is being swept out of the room, feeling Tony's hand pulled from her own as her bed is rolled away. The side rail quickly pulled back up and locked into place as her brain tries to figure it all out.

Gibbs watches from the hallway the commotion that follows in his wake. He set his agent's hearts racing and a nurse is in within seconds to check on them.

Gibbs takes a seat in the hallway to clear his mind. Admitting silently that the reaction was probably a little strong. He was just taken aback by the whole situation.

He usually knew everything about his team. Tony was so easy to read and as of late Ziva was getting easier as well, but perhaps he had trained them both too well.

The familiarity of their proximity in the moment he found them made him wonder exactly how long they had kept him in the dark about their relationship.

How long would they have let it go on if not for all of this? And was it his own fault that they had been lying to him? Yes he had rules, but they were really there as protections. Protection for his agents, protection for his team.

He's snapped from his internal focus as he realizes just how many people had filed into that tiny room while he was distracted.

He moved to the doorway in time to see DiNozzo grab David's hand, and watch her squeeze his fingers as if they were a lifeline. He took in her face the next instant, panic and pain was all he caught in her eyes and his heart dropped into his stomach.

As her bed was rolled away and their hands parted, he saw the utter confusion and fear across the faces of both of his agents. Knowing he had been the one to inflict this pain in them was like a physical pain to himself.

The room was suddenly quiet, too quiet. Only one nurse remained. The room cleared out with Ziva, but the nurse was asking Tony questions. The young man was looking around the room in confusion, not seeming to hear the nurse at all. His agent's eyes met his own and Gibbs saw no recrimination, no accusation, all he saw was an open question.

"Where are they taking her?" Tony finally voiced.

Gibbs knew Tony was speaking to him, but he had no answers.

Thankfully the nurse spoke up, "They're worried her lung may have collapsed again or gotten worse. They have to do some tests. I'll let you know right away if they need to take her into surgery."

After attempting to get more information from Tony about his own condition and getting only an angry statement of "My head hurts! It's fine, though!" she gave up.

"I'll come back and check on you again in a while. If I hear anything I will let you know." she gave him a reassuring smile before she swept out of the room leaving the two agents staring at each other, no words coming.

The silence was heavy and the men didn't move. Both lost in their own thoughts.

Tony's mind was reeling on a single word out of the nurses mouth _'again'. _She had said her lung may have collapsed _'again'_.

His mind swam between that word and Ziva's own words just a few hours before. He had asked her how she was and she'd said 'minor injuries'. What the hell was wrong with her?

Anger swept his body and mind as he thought about how stubborn and independent, bordering on idiotic, that damn woman could be.

He was so consumed with his thoughts that he almost didn't register that Gibbs was speaking to him until he actually almost missed the words that he never thought he'd hear from his boss.

"I'm sorry, Tony."

It took his brain a moment to register that he hadn't actually imagined the words. "You're breaking' the rules, there, Boss." he was surprised by his voice. Was that really him? He had intended the comment to sound light and joking, trying to diffuse the blow up he saw coming, but instead it came out with a snapping bite to it.

He saw the briefest flash of something unidentifiable pass through the older man's eyes, but he had gotten started and couldn't seem to stop himself. Taking his anger at Ziva's downplaying her condition out on Gibbs he continued, "What the hell did you think coming in shouting would accomplish?"

Gibbs turned stone eyes on his senior agent, "Are you seriously asking me what _I_ was thinking when _you_ have your head up your ass?"

"Oh, that's rich!" Tony responded, not really caring that their raised voices were causing that pounding in his head to turn into a full roar, but pausing a moment to breath through the worst of it.

"You got somethin' to say to me, DiNozzo?" Gibbs gritted out, jaw locking tight.

Tony couldn't stop himself, the confusion, anger and helplessness he felt boiling out of him in a single heated statement. "I've got _nothing_ to say to you."

The tense silence that engulfed the two men as neither was willing to back down. Each man glaring daggers at the other, anger like a physical third person in the room.

Finally Gibbs broke the silence, "Find the words. You need to tell me how long you've been lying to me and putting this team in jeopardy because you can't keep your dick in your pants."

"Jealous?" Tony asked with a snide smirk, unable to stop himself regardless of how silly this conversation had been.

"Try 'pissed', DiNozzo." the quiet anger reflected in the sudden clenching of the older man's fists at his side.

"Now which one of us has their head up their ass?" Tony asked on a chuckle that was completely devoid of any actual humor.

"You really want me to answer that?" Gibbs forced the words out, anger boiling under the surface of each one.

"You want to know what I really want?" Tony breathed a moment, not sure what was pulsing through his veins. He was confident the burning heat overtaking his body was anything but his own blood.

"Not if your next statement has anything to do with your partner. The one you're supposed to protect. You should be watching her back not checking out her ass!" Gibbs took in the slight lowering of Tony's eyes, focused on him with a level of ferocity he had never seen in the other man.

"Don't." The single word was pushed out of Tony's mouth with such vehemence that Gibbs felt his anger slightly dissipating at the intensity of emotion sweeping the younger man.

Gibbs was struck silent as he took in the situation through fresh eyes. Here he was yelling at his senior field agent who couldn't even sit up straight.

As much as he was playing it off as their fault for ignoring his basic set of rules he suspected his anger was probably more brimming from his own feelings of guilt over the pain he had caused his two agents a moment ago.

Definitely more to do with watching Ziva wheeled out gasping for air, worry turned to anger in a heartbeat and now he was having trouble reigning it in.

Gibbs took in the slightly lost expression on Tony's face, hidden only barely behind the mask of anger radiating off him. Not wanting to see the fear and anguish in the younger man's eyes he turned away and gathered his emotions. Trying to put himself in check firmly before speaking again.

"Forget it." he heard himself whisper into the silence. "I don't know how long you two have been together, but it hasn't affected your work, yet."

Tony couldn't actually process what his boss was telling him, sure he couldn't be saying what he was actually saying, even if there really was nothing going on between him and Ziva. Just Gibbs thinking there was and brushing it off, no, that didn't sound right. Gibbs didn't bend the rules.

The long silence caused Gibbs to turn back and he noted the flash of confusion on his agents face. "If it's not impacting your work, I'm not splitting up this team."

Tony thought he should say something, but words weren't filtering through his muddled brain.

Finally it all seemed to click in his mind and he couldn't stop the soft chuckle at the complete absurdity of it all, "You throwing out a rule? Gonna have to renumber them all or just going to make a new number 12?"

Ignoring the humor, Gibbs responded to the non-question, "I think I caused enough damage with that rule a few minutes ago, don't you?"

Tony's chuckle turned into a full laugh that jarred his body sending his head spinning again. He didn't know what was so funny, but he couldn't seem to get this under control.

It took him a few more breaths than it should have to get himself under control again and he finally registered the intense guilt that had been dripping off Gibbs since the moment this heated argument began.

"It's not your fault, Boss."

Gibbs seemed to follow the change in conversation, "Hard to see it that way."

Their voices were now both calmed, strained as each thought of their fallen friend. Each man, so different and yet so similar registering in their own way that they were responsible for the condition Ziva was wheeled out of the room in.

"Why would you do this?" Gibbs finally asked gesturing towards the down rail on his hospital bed and where hers had been. "You knew Abby was here and I would stop by eventually. If you were trying to keep this all hidden, why like this?"

Tony finally found himself completely frustrated with his boss, normally so perceptive, right now stubbornly stuck on just plain wrong. "There's nothing to keep hidden, if you'd listen to me for half a second."

Gibbs crossed his arms over his chest, eyebrows raising slightly in a silent question as he waited the 'explanation' from his agent.

"I don't know how we got here, but I'm glad we did." Tony's voice was soft as he explained to his boss about waking up next to the two women.

Some kind of recognition cross his face and he interrupted, "Abby."

It wasn't a question, but Tony confirmed he had thought the same thing on waking. As he briefly recapped Ziva waking and going back to sleep he saw the realization that Gibbs finally understood how off his perception had been. Tony's gaze slipped back to his hands, clenched together, thumb on one hand rubbing anxiously across the back of the other as if subconsciously trying to remember the feeling of his partner warm and safe under his fingers.

"She was scared, Boss." Tony looked up from his hands, voice cracking as he continued, "What was I supposed to do? Push her away?"

Gibbs shook his head, arms unfolding off his chest. He finally closed the distance he had kept between him and his agent, standing over the other man and reaching out a tentative hand. He laid the hand low on the young man's shoulder, feeling his chest rise and fall with unsteady breaths and watching the torment in Tony's eyes.

"You did good, Tony. She's going to be fine."

Tony felt his hold on this situation failing, felt himself succumbing to emotions that he couldn't fight. A single tear slipped out of the corner of his left eye and he hoped Gibbs couldn't see it from his position on the other side of his bed.

Trying to slip the mask back on Tony said, "About that apology?", his attempt at regaining composure obviously failing from the choked sound of his own voice, but Gibbs didn't push it.

Gibbs didn't embrace him which would have broken his resolve completely.

He didn't lash out, which would have sent his agent scurrying back into the darkened shadows of his internal struggle with abandonment issues.

Gibbs just stood silently a moment before following Tony's lead into the release of humor. "I'm not gonna say it again, so don't get your hopes up."

xoxo

A/N: It was so good to hear from all of you. I was starting to get worried I had driven you off with where my characters were going and I apologize to anyone roped in thinking this wouldn't have emotional connections and relationships, but it's not my fault, because I hadn't planned it. It just developed over the course of the story and really, shouldn't be too distracting... I hope. I Updated the summary to prevent future confusion.

Thanks again for reading.


	23. Chapter 23

A/N: When I updated for a second time on Sunday, the listing wasn't moved to the top. I haven't heard anything on that chapter, so you may have missed the update. If you're not sure if you read chapter 22, go back and check it out or you'll be confused in about a minute.

Chapter 23

By the time a member of the transport staff came in to wheel Tony down for x-rays and a CAT scan he and Gibbs had fully cleared the air.

Both admitted, without saying much of anything, that they were worried about Ziva and the ridiculous argument was put behind them. Gibbs hadn't even threatened to slap him back into a coma, which surprised Tony to no end.

He was still dwelling on the events as he slid into the CAT scan tube. The staccato whooshing his only company as he lay still on the hard surface, his mind reeling on the things that had been said and what they really meant.

Trying to decipher his own reaction to his Boss and mostly his reaction to having Ziva whisked out of the room in such a panic made his head start to hurt again.

He had to admit that this was the part that was tearing him up inside. How bad off was she that she would waver in her strength. That she would admit to fear or even seek comfort.

That was the part that scared him the most. She never wavered. She was always strong, sometimes to the point of him actually forgetting that under all the bravado and courage there was a woman.

Oh, and he knew women. At least he knew most women, but she wasn't like most. Hell, she wasn't like any he had ever met.

Most women were soft and sweet. She was rigid and ruthless.

Women giggled and waited for him to open doors. She didn't giggle. Her laugh was more subdued and controlled, more of a chuckle, but never a nervous childish giggle. She would probably hit him if he held a door for her.

Women smiled shyly through their eyelashes at him, teasing come-on implied in the furtive gesture. Ziva definitely didn't smile shyly through her lashes. The only time she looked at him through her lashes was that damn glare she had perfected that told him he would be dead in 2 seconds if he didn't stop whatever it was he was doing.

Of course, now that he thought about it, he never did take the hint or stop trying to push her buttons and she never killed him, as was obvious by the fact that he was still alive.

He let his mind wander over all the times that she hadn't actually killed him when the threat was implied or even clearly voiced. He knew, deep down, that she wouldn't do it anyway, they were friends. They weren't as close of friends as they used to be, but still she was the best one he can ever remember having. He never got too close to people, it was just not his style, but she wouldn't let him push her away. She didn't take his crap and saw right through his joking or blowing her off. At the same time, if he ever needed help, she would drop anything to give him a hand.

He knew his defense mechanism was joking around and throwing humor in the face of his discomfort, hers was threatening to kill whoever or whatever had made her uncomfortable. Each with their own methods, neither very effective against the other.

He would call that an issue of proximity. When you spend so much time with a person you get to know their tells and their poker face no longer works to conceal what they are thinking. He actually got the impression that she had been starting to get frustrated with him being able to read her, but then she would just tease him right back and whatever moment there was about to be didn't happen.

Theirs was a special bond built on years of hiding from other people. 'Special' in that each understood the limits and neither pushed the other. Not the kind of 'special' Gibbs was so eager to label them with not very long before.

He silently cursed Gibbs for his irrational jump to conclusions. It had put all sorts of long buried thoughts back in his mind and it was making him very uncomfortable. He didn't like to be uncomfortable, but he couldn't switch his brain off as he lay in the plain white tube with nothing but the steady rhythm of the machine working around him serving as less than sufficient distraction.

He wasn't going to deny that his partner was way past hot. Being a guy he had, of course, occasionally looked across the bullpen and lost himself in some kind of crazy fantasy or another.

But that was as far as he let the thoughts get. A relationship was out of the question, absurd to the point of being laughable. He fought the desire to laugh, knowing he had to stay still so they could finish their scans.

He was very glad to hear the machine slow to a stop as the laugh that had been lingering finally broke free.

As he moved back onto his hospital bed and started the long trip back to his room, his brain formulated rapid fire mental pictures of just what a relationship with his partner would result in.

He imagined the blunt rounded edge of his toothbrush shoved forcefully through his throat after she discovered he had squeezed the toothpaste tube from the middle instead of the end.

He flinched at the thought of her holding his head in the toilet until he breathed the fetid water because he left the toilet seat up.

He had a flash of her suffocating him with a pillow for stealing the covers, or strangling him with a curtain because they disagreed on how to decorate their new house.

He couldn't stop the laugh as he thought about how easily she could snap his neck in a fight over him forgetting to get milk on the way home from work. Beat him to death with a frying pan because he didn't do the dishes. Cutting his throat with the cake knife because he messed up the vows at their wedding or gutting him with a pee covered plastic pregnancy test because he knocked her up.

His laughter was garnering an odd look from the nurse pushing him down the hall, but he supposed it probably sounded odd if it was as strained to her ears as it was in his own.

He imagined her strangling him with the umbilical cord because he passed out during their baby's birth, but the laugh died in his throat as the mental picture changed to a tiny girl with brown curls and green eyes, smiling at him from Ziva's arms.

Shaking his head to clear frightening thoughts he really didn't need to explore any further, he was glad for the fresh wave of rolling pain.

He rode the waves of pain to his hospital room where he saw Abby in his doorway as he was pushed back inside.

He gave her a weak smile as he was maneuvered into the room, but it fell off his face when he saw McGee standing near the window. "What the hell happened to you McFrankenstein?"

Tim just stared at Tony for a moment before shrugging and turning back to the window.

"Tim," Tony started again, "Come on, man. I could use a good story right now and from the looks of it, you've got one."

McGee turned back to him, a hint of a smile on his face, but Tony noticed there was some kind of strain in Tim's eyes.

He lay back on his hospital pillow, mind spinning with something more than pain this time as McGee, Gibbs, and Abby filled Tony in on how McGee came to be leaning on the windowsill of Tony's room with his hand in a cast and his face bandaged.

"I don't know what happened next, really." Tim said a sheepish sound to his voice, "I just kinda lost it."

Tony wasn't following him. The gun fight was over, they mentioned Detective Olson bringing Dominic Morgan out from a back room, "What happened?"

"Broke my hand on his face."

Tony smiled at his Probie, "Nice."

For some reason Tim looked between the cast on his hand and Abby before looking back to Tony with a cryptic, "Not really."

"Come on, McGee," he said, pride in his friend coming through strong, "That's so Clint Eastwood."

"Old or Young Clint Eastwood?" McGee asked and Tony heard the incredulous tone as if he didn't believe Tony was actually complimenting him.

"That guy's just as tough today as he ever was." Tony considered his options for a moment and then continued, "You're like Will Munny from Unforgiven crossed with Walt Kowalski from Gran Torino. Quiet, but Dangerous, don't mess with your friends." He noticed the slight blush creep across McGee's cheeks. "Glad you're on our side, Tim." he shifted his gaze as his mind replayed bits and pieces of what he'd been told, "Bet you're pretty damn glad of that Kevlar vest, too."

Tim chuckled, it sounded forced to Tony, "You have no idea." he said and Tony noticed the brief exchange of knowing smiles between McGee and Gibbs and figured there was another story to pry out of Tim. That would have to wait for some other time. This was a moment he wanted kick back and lock away in his memory.

His co-worker, a man he teased mercilessly and treated like a child on many occasions, had been a one man army. Tim had gone to the extreme to get the bad guy and avenge him. Avenge Ziva, too.

Thoughts of Ziva pulled him back out of his current state of wonder as he contemplated how she was doing.

As if fated to keep everybody's spirits in the positive, the door to their hospital room opened and a rather frustrated looking nurse pushed Ziva through the door.

Ziva herself didn't seem to be in a pleasant mood if the angry tone in her voice was anything to go by, "I wish you would stop trying to cuddle Molly me."

Every set of eyes in the room looked at her with confusion except for one, "It's 'Mollycoddle'." Tony explained, his grin nearly as wide as his face. If she was well enough to harass hospital staff with a bad interpretation of the English language, he had high hopes for her recovery.

"Whichever it is, I don't appreciate it." she huffed as they moved her back in place and locked the wheels on her bed.

The nurse seemed to be in an extreme hurry to get away from Ziva, and in her current frustrated mood, Tony didn't really blame the young woman.

Tim watched Tony's face light up as Ziva was moved into the room. He wondered if the drugs coursing through that man's body explained away his current high spirits and compliments.

It wasn't until Tim realized Tony was retelling the story of them taking down the cabin that his ears tuned back into the conversation.

At first, he found himself thinking that the tone Tony was using confirmed his prior thought that Tony's drugged state was causing the kindness. Then as he continued to listen to the pride and wonder as Tony recounted the story to Ziva, he felt himself actually believing the feelings in his friend's voice.

Tony using names like McRambo and McHero didn't seem to bother him as much as the other nicknames. He sure had a knack for telling stories and even if he didn't understand half the movie references Tony threw in, he took in the audience he was telling the story to.

Ziva seemed to understand every word, even the movie references as if Tony was specifically making references to movies he knew she had seen. When Tony made a comment along the lines of "like Bruce Willis in Die Hard, the original, not the sequel" Ziva turned a bright smile in Tim's direction.

Even Tim understood that reference, and he tried to fight the blush he felt creep across his cheeks.

He looked to Abby who was watching him out of the corner of her eye. She gave him a warm smile, understanding more than anyone what he must be feeling in that moment. They were good friends, after all, each comfortable venting in front of the other. She had a wealth of knowledge of his frustration with Tony on certain days.

As he finished the story, Ziva's eyes locked with Tim's again. "Our very own personal avenger."

"It wasn't much." he said, ducking his head. He didn't do well with all this attention. It was going to take some getting used to.

"It was a lot, Tim." Tony said seriously.

It looked as if he were about to say something else when Ziva spoke up, "So, how did a couple of teens get their hands on a Hamas-style bomb?"


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

McGee didn't know how long he stood in front of the wall of glass, staring in at the swollen purple face of the young boy.

When he, Gibbs, and Abby got to the Miami Police station Abby went down to see if she could help with forensics as Gibbs and Tim were briefed on the progress of the case.

Before leaving the hospital they had been able to get a general idea of the device from Ziva scouring hundreds of bomb pictures and sketches. It was not like anything in the records because of the detonator being tied to a touch activated iPhone. The other components actually pointed to a single Hamas cell with ties to Al-queda and from Ziva's best guess would have been built by any of three men.

Being unable to actually dissect the bomb she couldn't pin point the actual maker to match it to any other devices that had been located. Gibbs was down in the squad room, looking through the bomb components pulled from the ocean after the explosion, trying to further narrow it down.

And here was McGee, alone in a room, staring at the boy he had beat furiously hours before. Trying to shake the burgeoning feelings of doubt.

The kid actually had a pretty plausible explanation for everything.

He had gotten in with the two dead boys because he had a love of sailing. He loved the sport, but didn't have any money to participate. He said he thought something was probably up, because they would take the boat out for 'practice' south of Florida and regularly stop to meet with another boat in open water.

They took on a bag or two, but he was too scared to ask what was up and didn't want to lose his connection with the water. The one thing that he had left to tie him to his father. He had aspirations of joining the Navy and following in his father's footsteps.

He stated it wasn't until they were at the cabin, a kind of home away from home for the three boys, that he realized something was really wrong.

Dominic had told the Miami police that Rodriguez got a phone call about an hour after the NCIS agents left Boyle's house. His friends became tense after that. The other two boys spoke Spanish and he didn't understand what they were discussing before the three headed to the cabin.

Times were tense at the cabin, but he didn't understand why the two were 'wigging' and so he took up in the living room, playing a video game.

When the first set of air-boats breezed past the cabin he said Jake and Kyle got 'crazy nervous'.

He said he was shocked when the two moved through the house gathering weapons and piling clips loaded with bullets in several places throughout the cabin.

They wouldn't give him a straight answer and he was left wondering what was going on, but scared out of his mind at the sight of the heavy artillery.

He saw them loading the weapons and watched as they flipped the sofa up on its end. Each was bracing their weapons, ready to fire from behind the couch at the first sign of movement.

Dominic had excused himself and found a spot to hide in the back room off the kitchen where he stayed through gun fire and shouting. Stayed until he was pulled out by Officer Olson. Stayed safe until he was pulled out and beaten by a crazy cop with a bloody face.

McGee didn't know how to deal with the guilt. If this is actually what happened, he knew the kid should have spoken up, should have gotten out of the situation, or at the very least quit the racing team, because he obviously knew that his friends were up to no good.

Still, knowing what you should do and actually doing it were two very different things, especially for a teenager. Even more so for one that probably had a whole slew of issues from his father's death.

He seemed to sincerely feel bad for the actions of his friends and for playing along with their charade of racing, but he had been selfish. A selfish teenager was nothing new and McGee couldn't help wondering if he had jumped the gun on beating the tar out of this boy when he had seen him.

Abby joined him in the observation room a little while later. He hated that she could read him like a book, because he knew she instantly felt his reservations and self-doubt at his actions from earlier.

She brushed past the issue, though, leaving him to stew on his own when Gibbs came in.

"Looks like they found the situation pretty much exactly as Dominic had described it." Gibbs said, "Stashes of weapons and stock piles of bullets in the living room, kitchen, even in the bath room."

He didn't look away from the boy on the other side of the glass.

"We identified the gun that you were shot with," Abby took up the recap, "it was stashed in a cabinet in the kitchen near the back door."

"Prints?" McGee asked, not like it mattered which of the boys had shot him, they were both dead.

"Wiped clean, 12 rounds missing from the clip, but the rate those boys were reloading there's no telling how many shots were fired from that weapon."

He glanced at Gibbs briefly as his mind replayed the moments shortly after the door was kicked open. He reconsidered the sound of shots fired in his head. Tried to weed out the ones that were farther away. Then he tapped out the steady rhythm of shots absentmindedly on his leg with a finger.

"There were twelve shots fired out the back of the house. They would have had to make quick work of cleaning the gun and stashing it away before Olson and I swept the Kitchen."

Gibbs nodded, accepting his recollection of the events from the back of the house.

There was something tickling in the back of McGee's mind, something he couldn't quite grasp. It was driving him absolutely crazy as he tried to listen to Abby explain more details about the forensics involved. The guns, the drugs, the money. Everything in the cabin pointed to drug smuggling.

It all really boiled down to a whole lot of nothing in his mind. They were no closer to understanding how the two boys got tied into drugs and ended up dead over it and there was nothing at the cabin to even hint at the production of the bomb.

While they had been at the hospital, warrants were served on all three of the teen's houses, but came up with nothing. It seemed everything was tied to the boat. The boat the had blown sky high with his two friends on it. The boat that this boy was claiming minimal ties to for the pursuit of recreation that had sucked an otherwise innocent kid into the torrid world of guns and drugs.

How could the bomb fit in, though? Why would they need an explosive devise with that much power. He surmised it may have been to get rid of evidence in case they were captured or caught by the police during one of the drug runs, but a bomb that explosive would have been dangerous to use within any kind of close range emergency situation. The boys would have been blown to bits trying to get the cops off their trails.

Yeah, they were just a bunch of dumb kids, but the trail didn't end with them. They were a small part of the larger drug ring. The only link to which was sitting at a cold metal table on the other side of the glass.

McGee seemed to stand there for an eternity, waiting for Gibbs to finally get tired of making the kid sit around and wait and go in there to make him to talk.

Officer Carlson, who they had met briefly in the squad room, the local tech-head, came in and took a seat near the camera controls at a bank of monitors on the back wall of the observation room.

That must have been what they were waiting for, but still no one moved.

Finally Gibbs turned to him, an impatient expression on his face, "Well?" he asked with a tone that sounded more like a demand than a question, "Aren't you going to get in there?"

xoxo

Tony was actually glad that Abby had decided to go peak through the forensics when Gibbs and McGee headed off to the precinct. He didn't want to interrogate Ziva in front of all of them, but he also didn't want to wait to get some answers.

"What's going on with you?" he asked, before quickly amending, "and no crap this time."

"It is nothing, really."

"I said cut the crap, Ziva." his words would have been harsh, but his tone softened them, "You said your injuries were minor."

"They are," she started, but he cut her off with a look that told her he wasn't going to let her off so easy, so she added "relatively."

"Relative to what?" he couldn't stop the internal shiver as the thought in his head passed off his lips, "Death?"

"Among other things."

He rolled his eyes, "Could you just, for once, give me a straight answer?"

She didn't seem to be inclined to answer so he continued, "The sooner you just tell me and get it over with, the sooner we can kick back and check out what's on TV."

She smiled at him, "Perhaps I should not answer, then? Make you suffer for a while?"

"I watched them take you out of here." Tony sighed, frustration so near the surface, mingling with his other emotions, "Don't you think I've suffered enough?"

The question was potent and had Ziva giving him that look were he knew she was trying to find his hidden motive behind words that were normally just spit out of his mouth on a whim, but this time he had picked them very carefully.

It was her turn to sigh, "It is nothing I have not dealt with before." he gave her a look of disbelief and she rolled her eyes, "OK, so this was a little worse."

"Really?" his sarcasm was back, but he was frustrated and didn't want to deal with this directly resorting to his fall back.

"What is your problem?"

"You lied to me." he couldn't believe the whiny tone in his voice. What the hell was that, anyway? Must be the pain meds, he didn't whine.

"What did you expect me to say?" she winced as she adjusted slightly on the bed to look at him and followed his lead into sarcasm. "Hey, Tony, glad you are out of your coma. Oh, by the way, my lung collapsed, I have some broken ribs, and the concussion of the blast nearly turned my brain to jelly inside my skull?"

He winced at her words. "Would've been a start."

"Yeah, and how would that have helped you?"

He shrugged, knowing she had a point, but still not willing to back down. "I don't know, but maybe I would've been a little less freaked out when you stopped breathing if I knew it wasn't the first time."

"I did not stop breathing."

He glared at her, "Do you always have to be so literal?" He couldn't help the smile at the thought of her just being her. "So what's the prognosis?"

She just shrugged in response, but he raised his eyes in an expression he knew she'd recognize as his 'don't give me any crap' look.

Ziva sighed in frustration, "It is really the most ridiculous thing. They are not even letting me up to pee."

Tony laughed, and didn't miss that she was communicating her desire to slit his throat where he lay, but that was going to be tough if she wasn't allowed to get up. "I'm not laughing at you, really."

"I find that hard to believe."

"I just got my tube out about an hour ago. Don't know if I'll be able to survive the headache when I have to make a trip to the bathroom. It could be that you're better off than me."

She gave him a weak smile, but then turned away from him. He didn't miss the flash of emotion that swept her face as she turned away.

"Are you alright?" she ignored him, "Come on, Ziva, don't do this."

"Did you hear what Abby said about the detonator?" her voice was soft and she didn't turn back to him.

Tony couldn't figure out what her problem was, couldn't deduce where she was going, "Uh, I think it was Blah blah techno-babble iPhone."

"Touch screen." she barely spoke the words on a soft exhale, he almost didn't hear them.

"Yeah, iPhones are. What are you getting at?" 

"You were right."

"Wait, what?"

She turned her troubled eyes back in his direction, but was avoiding his eyes, "I said, 'you were right'."

He smiled, "I know, I just wanted to hear you say it again." He didn't even get a smile for the trouble. "Come on, what?"

"I should have listened to you." she finally let her eyes drift back up to his and he could see the inner torment, but he was just confused. "I should not have tried to disarm the bomb. I should have waited for the bomb squad."

"You couldn't have known." he tried to reassure her, his tone light as a breeze.

"I should have, though." she closed her eyes as if not wanting to see something in his face.

Did she think he would be upset with her for not listening to him? Didn't she already know that he was used to her not listening to him?

"I armed it. I caused all of this." she gestured between their beds.

"Stop." she tried to keep talking, tried to keep going down the spiral of negativity. "I said stop it." he said forcefully. Finally her eyes opened again and met his. "Don't do this. We could play this 'what if' game all day and neither of us comes off clean in this one." he felt his breath shudder out of him. "This wasn't your fault, and we're both alive."

"Yes, but,"

He cut her off, "I said stop." he waited for her to grasp that he wasn't going to listen to this anymore. "We're not having this conversation again. This is it, it's where it ends." he waited to make sure she was listening, "This was not your fault, this was the fault of the assholes we deal with on a daily basis. This is our job, Ziva."

It was a long moment of consideration before she nodded with a weak smile and he felt the tug in his heart. He did not like seeing her like this. She seemed fragile and it was so unlike her that it kind of scared him. He couldn't do this any more.

No longer willing to talk about anything too serious, Tony moved them on to some light conversation about Tim.

After a while a nurse came in to check on them and she said what would have to be the sweetest words Tony had heard out of the mouth of a nurse in all his life, "Do you want to see our DVD selection?"

"Oh, yeah."

xoxo

A/N: I have a hard time writing Tony and Ziva when they're not out in the field or investigating. It is proving to be quite difficult and I hope it comes across with a layer of reality in there somewhere.

Let me know what you think, whether I'm on the right track here, or if I need to stop with all the internal struggling. Of course, it's almost over, so there isn't too much more I could put them all through, right? Let's hope not, I'm exhausted. : )


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

Abby was questioning the judgment Gibbs was expressing. Not that she didn't trust him implicitly, but this was just a bad idea. She could feel it.

Tim was not in a very good frame of mind right now. He was distracted. He shouldn't be interrogating the kid he had punched earlier when she could tell he had taken the boys word for the events at the cabin to heart.

He was doubting his adrenaline based moment of rage. He shouldn't be stepping foot in front of a kid that they needed information out of when he was feeling any level of guilt for his actions towards the boy.

He had been exuding doubt when she'd walked into the observation room. It was a heck of a change over the confident, no nonsense, take no bull man who had practically swaggered into the hospital room a short time ago.

She couldn't help wondering if Tim's current uneasiness was her fault.

He seemed to falter in his optimism and fall back into self doubt after she basically called him stupid for kissing her.

It wasn't that it had really been so bad. She'd been glad he was alive after everything he had gone through and the adrenaline and passion of the moment was enough to make her head spin even before he kissed her.

She had been almost glad when he hurt himself, not that she'd ever be glad he had done harm to himself, but more because it gave her an easy way out to the situation.

She knew where this all led. It led to comfortable nights, cozy dates, sweet gentle kisses, cuddling and laughing and killing each other on computer games until the wee hours of the night before falling into bed exhausted, but not too exhausted.

But in the end it would lead to the same fate their relationship had suffered the first time they had been together.

Abby couldn't stop herself reminiscing on their past together, everything they had shared, everything they had been to each other. Things had been going along fine. 

Being with McGee had been one of the lowest stress relationships she had ever been in. He wasn't as experienced a guy as she was accustomed to dating. He was shy and sweet, generous and thoughtful. Pretty much the opposite of her normal 'type'.

He was so far from the bad boys she normally dated. He wasn't covered in tattoos, pierced in odd places. He didn't make statements with his clothes, unless you considered 'slightly dorky professional' a fashion statement.

Him being different from her former lovers hadn't been a bad thing, really. She kind of liked being treated like she was special, like she was someone to be treasured, like he would walk across a field of lava to bring her a Caf-Pow!, if that's what he thought she needed.

It had been good at first, but then he became a permanent field agent. That was the beginning of the end, though it took a while for everything to come to a head.

He started to learn things, from the team, from the work, but mostly from Gibbs. One night, cuddling in bed, skin on skin, his hand rubbing across her back as she rested her head against his chest, he brought up rule 12 to her. Asked if she thought Gibbs had a problem with the two of them being together.

She had just laughed it off, but she felt his heart start racing under her cheek. She folded her hands on his chest and rested her chin on them so she could look him in the eyes.

He was nervous.

More nervous than their first time together, nervous.

She started to worry he might actually be concerned about his job and his chance to stay in the field. She knew he loved his life as a field agent and was trying to think of something to say to ease his mind, but couldn't think of much besides just telling him it was fine.

She pulled a hand free from under her head and started running her fingers over his shoulder, down his arm, trying to calm him with actions since words didn't seem to be coming to her.

"The actual rule is 'never _date_ a co-worker', but I think I may have figured out a loophole." he had paused as if waiting for something.

When she looked back up to his eyes he smiled softly down at her and reached a hand to twirl her pigtail on his finger. "We should get married." her hand stilled on his shoulder, "I love you." Panic set in. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

She didn't acknowledge him, couldn't speak. He had shook her into speechlessness with three little words. Three words that she couldn't say back to him.

That was so far from what she ever expected out of his mouth. Finally she breathed again as she tried to formulate a response. Her instinct kicked in and she looked at him, and hated herself as she watched his face fall when she lied to him, "I don't."

She had taken his kind heart in her hands and crushed it. He has always been so sweet that even this destroying of his hopes had been pushed aside because it was what she wanted.

To him it had always been about what she wanted. She wanted him he was delighted. She didn't want him, he was accepting, even to the point of still being her friend and someone she could rely on.

He never pushed, he never asked to be back together, he never whined or moped or sent her dozens of roses. He just let her have the space she had said she needed and allowed her to run and hide like she always did.

It was better this way. Easier. Or at least it was supposed to be, so why did he have to go and try to ruin everything in the emergency room like that?

Suddenly the interrogation room door opened and she pulled herself out of the past as she watched the scene unfolding in front of her.

xoxo

To Tony's delight the hospital had a wide range of movies, apparently donated by some charitable organizations. Now that was a cause he could get behind.

He was going to suggest they watch The Bucket List since she had purportedly never seen it, but if memory served, there were quite a few funny scenes in that movie and he wanted to keep the jarring of her damaged ribs and lungs to a minimum.

She asked about the Walt Kowalski reference he had made about McGee when he had told her about the raid on the cabin and he figured that would be a safe bet. At least as far as laughter, except for those few scenes that cracked him up. There was, however, a problem with the movie that he wasn't sure she'd be able to overlook.

"I don't know about that one. The main character is a little 'colorful' with his language."

She rolled her eyes at him, "I am surrounded by sailors all day. I think I can handle a little crude language."

He shook his head, "Not what I meant, exactly. He has racially colorful language. It's kind of key to the story and understanding the character. Key to understanding how he grows and who he really is on the inside."

"OK, I do not want to watch this movie if you are going to continue to babble until you give away the whole thing."

He grinned, he should have known she was harder to offend than that, "Just giving you an out, that's all. It really is a great movie."

She shot him a glare.

"Right, shutting up now." he said, making a mock zipping motion across his mouth, pretending to lock it with an invisible key.

Ziva snorted, "That will not last long."

As if to prove that he was committed to his promise to shut up and let her enjoy the movie he reached across the space between them as if handing her the key he had pretended to lock his mouth shut with a moment before.

To Ziva's surprise he was true to his word. Tony kicked back and watched the movie, refraining from speaking the entire time.

A little over halfway through, just as the characters were developing and she was getting drawn into their world there was a light knock on the door and it was opened up.

A doctor walked in with a file in his hand, and Ziva noticed that Tony must have hit the pause button to delay the rest of the movie.

The older man, tall with thin features, kind of resembling a vulture, approached Tony with a smile. Something that she assumed he rarely dusted off and pulled out because it looked entirely forced. "Hi, Tony. I'm Dr. Henry Wright. I am a part of the neurology program here at Jackson Memorial."

"What's up, Doc?" Tony asked with a goofy little grin.

Dr. Wright did not look amused, "Your results are in and everything is looking pretty good in comparison to the scans we took when you first arrived."

The doctor paused and they both knew he wasn't done talking, but he also wasn't saying anything, "But?" Ziva asked.

"'But', a few things came back inconclusive and we're going to need to run another test in the morning, because of the seizure activity." She heard Tony shift around in his bed, but he didn't interrupt the doctor, "Everything seems to be alright, so I wouldn't worry too much."

Ziva noted he did not seem very good at reassuring people, either, in addition to having a poor excuse for a smile.

"We are going to run an EEG in the morning, but I need you to try to stay awake until then." The doctor looked at the clock over his shoulder. "We'll have the technician in here at around 5am, so you'll only need to stay awake for about 6 more hours."

"What is the point of staying up all night?" Tony asked and Ziva could hear the annoyance in his voice.

"Brains are a funny thing, Mr. DiNozzo," Oh, right, now he's got a real smile on his face. He appeared to be able to identify with brains better than people. That explained a lot. "In a situation like this, we can't tell you why this or that happens, but after it has we can do a few things. Staying awake and suffering sleep deprivation will cause your brain to be in a weakened state. Once we have your brain in a precarious position when will hook electrodes to your head and try a few things to induce a seizure. Noise, lights, etc."

"Now wait a minute." Ziva interrupted, anger lacing her tone, "You want to _make_ him have another seizure?"

"That's not the intention." Dr. Wright apparently did not appreciate being talked to that way, "We need to look for signs that it could happen again."

She watched as Tony's eyes widened just a fraction, "Are you saying I could have knocked my head hard enough to make myself prone to seizures?"

"Like I said, brains are a funny thing. It is a possibility." He replied briefly. His nonchalance and indifference made Ziva have to fight the urge to strangle the neurologist in the middle of the room for his lack of any kind of bed side manner.

"We will know more tomorrow." the doctor finished and left them alone again.

She had watched the man leave as if it were any other day for him and Tony let out a frustrated growl.

Ziva turned to him, finally breaking the long silence that had settled on them since the doctor left, "It is only a few hours."

"I know, but what if it's the last few hours?" he replied quietly.

She did not follow his logic, surely he did not think that he was going to die from lack of sleep. Before she could even question the strange statement he continued.

"What if they find something in there?" instantly his tone put her on edge. Who was this talking to her, voice soft and shy, sounding almost like a lost child, "I can't be a federal agent if at any moment I could fall to a seizure. Hard to be someone to rely on in a tough situation."

"We should just focus on staying awake and we can build that bridge when we come to it."

The faulty idiom earned her a ghost of the usual cocky smile as he corrected flatly, "It's cross the bridge."

"Do you not need to build a bridge before you can cross it?"

He gave her a weak smile and ignored any further comments by switching the movie back on.

She knew he was done talking, but she couldn't stop dwelling on what he had said. What he must be feeling. He seemed content just wallowing alone because he refused to talk things out. Refused to ask for help or support from anyone because he was too damn stubborn and stuck in his ways.

She was certain that, more than almost anyone she knew, he would feel worthless at a desk. He was a lot like her in that regard. The job was his life, as much as it was hers. They didn't connect to other people, they didn't have family or too many friends. What they had was justice, truth, honor. What they had was their work.

As the movie continued, she finally allowed her mind to filter back over and begin watching it again. While she was catching all the main plot points, she was also glancing at him through her lashes occasionally to make sure he was still awake.

He seemed content to completely ignore the situation and pretend to focus all his attention on the movie. If she followed his gaze, however, he was staring several feet to the left of the screen at the plain white wall.

As the action picked up in the movie and the emotions played across the screen the drama seemed to impact her in her current state of worry and she found herself reaching out to him.

He wasn't even looking at her, but as if he sensed her movements he reached out and his hand met hers halfway between their two beds. The contact seemed to tether him back in the situation and he turned a little smile to her before he focused back on the screen.

He squeezed her hand when she gasped at the dramatic ending she hadn't seen coming. She squeezed back as they watched the car drive off into the distance and the credits rolled.

It was a long moment before either one spoke.

"I know you think you will not have anything if you do not have your job. You will not be worth anything or good for anything, but you are wrong." she said sincerely, but not able to look at him because this kind of thing always seemed to make her uncomfortable.

She wasn't good at telling people what they were good at or good for or what she appreciated about them. But this was Tony. This was her friend and he needed to understand that he was more than his job.

"You are not the sum total of what you do. You are not just your job."

"It's all I'm good at." His tone was just as subdued as hers and he was also avoiding her gaze.

She would have laughed about what an emotionally messed up couple of people they were that they couldn't even have a simple conversation if it didn't involve being flirtatious, joking, or working.

She knew from what little he had said that his childhood was probably a lot like hers in the area of affection from a father. She supposed a childhood burying feelings is what led them to this point in their lives. A point where, though fully grown and mentally developed, they were not able to grasp the simple emotional gestures.

She tugged lightly on his hand until he looked at her, "That is a lie."

He just shrugged, obviously not buying it.

"You are a good friend." she held his gaze a moment, but had to look away again.

As she started speaking again, this time he tugged lightly on her hand until she returned her eyes to his. "You might think that without your job you will have nothing. You might think that you will be alone again and forgotten, but you are wrong. You may lose your job, that is a possibility, though I have hope and faith that this will all turn out OK. You may lose 'everything' if everything is field work, but you will not lose your friends. You will not lose me."

His eyes darkened and she couldn't tell if she had just made things better or worse because his expression was blank.

After a few seconds he finally opened his mouth to respond, but there was another knock on the door as the nurse came in to check on them.

Their hands parted and she felt the space between them as if it were actually miles instead of a couple of feet.

As the nurse checked each of them, Ziva felt herself hoping that she had picked the right words.

xoxo

A/N: This was written in a daze of the stomach bug that will, apparently, never end. Any errors are mine and any silliness is an unfortunate consequence of not wanting to stop the progress in the story even if my sleep deprived, exhausted brain thinks it deserves a break.


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

Tim found himself pacing outside the interrogation room trying to get a grip on his emotions. Five minutes after leaving the observation room he started to wonder if Gibbs was going to come out and slap him upside the head.

As he continued to pace, however, the door didn't open in his wake. He supposed his boss figured he was gathering himself and preparing a game plan after he left the room and so he continued.

He had to ready his mind for whatever was to come. He found he was mentally slapping himself for the momentary self doubt as he got his mind set on the tactic he would be using once he walked through those doors.

He thought back over what the boy had said with a fresh mind set. What his participation level with the two drug runners was.

Tim found that there was a familiar ache of anger burning in the pit of his stomach as he contemplated it in a fresh light. All he felt was anger, where moments ago there had only been guilt.

He shouldn't feel guilt when Dominic was not the one who had sat back and done nothing to save Trevor Macey, to stop the flow of drugs, to protect Tim's partners.

With that thought swirling in his head, boiling the blood in his veins, he set his shoulders and grabbed the handle on the door.

The loud sound of metal chair legs scraping across the concrete floor of the interrogation room greeted Tim as he shut the door behind him. The boy had obviously recognized McGee as he scurried away to keep distance and the table between him and the crazy officer who had beat him earlier.

"Sit." McGee said, but the boy continued to stare at him as if not believing he was there.

"I said Sit!" McGee nearly shouted this time and the boy jumped before ever so slowly approaching the table.

"What are you doing here? You shouldn't be in here." but his fear soon melted to anger, "I'm going to sue your ass. Where's my lawyer?"

McGee just laughed in response, it was humorless and tight. "Dominic, has no one told you?"

"What?" the boy asked as he finally reached the chair and sat. "Told me what?"

"You won't need a lawyer."

The boy was obviously confused until McGee continued, "You see, the murder of Lieutenant Trevor Macey, attempted murder of Federal Officers and Police Officers, and drug smuggling, those are crime we won't really need to be charging you with. Per your statement it was all your friends and you didn't have a hand in any of it."

He saw the relief wash across the boy's face and waited for it all to sink in and settle him.

Tim waited what seemed an eternity before the boy finally stuttered, "S-so I'm free to go? Are you here to apologize to me?"

McGee laughed again. He was getting pretty good at that. It wasn't really an evil laugh in the classic sense of the word, but definitely nothing reassuring to the boy.

His laugh was hallow and humorless, actually bordering on slightly psychotic.

The unstable glint in his eye, he assumed, would be believable to the kid who had witnessed his violent snap a few hours before and was sporting the bruises to prove it.

The boys hands began to shake, "I don't understand. What's going on?"

Tim let his mouth curve up in a tiny little grin; one he hoped would reveal the sick satisfaction he was hoping to project towards the teen. "We actually just had our jurisdiction swiped out from under us and those guys outside got something special planned for you."

McGee winked and then continued, watching the color run out of the boy's face as he explained. "See, we linked that bomb on the boat to a terrorist cell from the middle east. Not just any terrorist cell, but one with confirmed ties to Al-Qeada. That makes this a matter of national security. And that, my dear boy, earns you a one way ticket to Gitmo."

"G-Gitmo?" Dominic stuttered, shaking his head in disbelief.

Tim just nodded and let him soak in that a while.

"You can't do this!" the boy was frantic.

Tim just shrugged as if indifferent. "I didn't." he responded coolly, "You did."

"I already told you!" the fear was clearing the way for anger to take its place. "I didn't have anything to do with what they were up to."

"Yep," he responded, calm and cool as he sat back in his chair. "That seems to be the problem right there."

"It's a problem that I'm innocent?"

McGee lay his arms on the table, giving the boy a sympathetic look, "Sometimes things are just screwed up like that." He shrugged and glanced pointedly at the navy blue cast on his arm as he shifted back to the jerk facade.

"If you _were_ involved, you'd actually have something to trade and barter with. You could give up the supplier or the head of the Miami trafficking ring, or the _real_ terrorist, but since you have no information. . ." He let his voice trail off and let the words sink in.

Dominic stared at him, apparently unable to speak, so McGee went on, "It really is a sad testament on the state of our existence that we reward material witnesses with new homes, new identities. Pretty much give lousy criminals whole new lives and here you are about to go away to a dark cell for the rest of yours and you've got nothing to save your skin with."

McGee shrugged as he stood up. He had watched the boy squirming, knew he was ready to break. For the first time since the interrogation started, McGee was certain the boy had something to add to the case. Something more than statements of his innocence.

"Homeland security will be in to collect you shortly."

As McGee opened the door leading out of the interrogation room he heard Dominic shifting behind him. McGee moved to step out when the boy turned a one syllable word into nearly two when his voice broke on a sob in the middle,

"Wait."

xoxo

Once the nurse was done checking their vitals and verifying they both knew that pain relief was just the push of a button away if things got too tough for them to handle, she turned to leave.

"Hang on." Tony called after her. "Could you, uh, you know, just," he trailed off, gesturing towards the bathroom on the other side of Ziva's bed as he carefully started sitting up.

"Oh, of course." she was at his bedside in a moment, but he waved her off while he let his head adjust to the movement. After another minute he braced himself with an arm on her shoulder and gingerly stood up, swaying slightly.

The nurse waited for him and when he started moving slowly towards the bathroom she followed his lead and helped him get around Ziva's bed.

When they finally reached the small bathroom he was barely using her for support and his head really wasn't so bad. Aside from the throbbing and vertigo. "I think I can handle it from here.

He caught Ziva's smile behind the nurse's back at the double meaning. "No jokes from the Peanut Gallery." and he shut the door.

He knew he could do this. It was something he did everyday. This whole concussion thing wasn't that big of a deal. It was kind of like waking up on the fraternity house floor after a toga party. He had made it relatively unscathed to the restroom all through college and he could do this too.

Not letting go of the railing the entire way, all three short shuffled steps of it, he finally reached his destination. Bending to lift the toilet seat was a courtesy he probably shouldn't have employed. The motion of bending and standing caused a fresh wave of pain to wash over him.

It felt as if his brain were free floating in his skull, tethered only to the nerves that ran through his entire body. His sloshing brain must be pulling on every single nerve sensor as his entire body tensed under the wave rolling through him.

He managed to focus enough to get the job done, though, much like those nights in the frat house, he was not putting too much stake on his sense of direction.

Finished he checked the damn hospital gown to make sure he hadn't gotten any on himself. It wasn't the first time he found himself wondering why he was stuck in a gown and Ziva got to wear scrubs.

As he leaned against the railing to regain his balance, he felt his mind detoured from the thought of her scrubs to the thought of just her.

Perhaps they would have been better off in separate rooms. She was acting very strange. Saying things she would probably deny once the medication wore off. Gentle calming tones, soft feminine looks. Ziva was acting, strangely, like a woman.

It wasn't the wrinkled clothes, tattered hair, morning after kind of look, though he had to admit that she was pulling that one off pretty damn well. It was the unusual mood swings. Unusual for her, not unusual for women in general.

She was being sweet and shy, and he felt himself hoping it wasn't just an act for his benefit. Something to distract him and keep the gray away for a few more hours until he met his fate.

Aside from the frightening aspects of their hospitalization, he could actually get used to her saying things to him that weren't followed with death threats.

Saying things like, "You won't lose me." on a voice soft as silk.

It had stopped him dead in his mental down spiral. Watching her lips move slowly as if choosing each word very carefully. Brow furrowed as if in deep concentration, not wanting to say the wrong thing. But perhaps she had anyway.

Now he was standing in the bathroom, entirely too long, pondering what she may have meant by those softly spoken words. He had almost asked her. Almost broken the silent agreement they seemed to have for just having some lighthearted fun and not pushing each other.

Neither was a healthy mate for anyone else, but they damn sure weren't healthy for each other. He wasn't about to make her a notch on his bed post and one or both would end up dead within a week if they ever. . . Whoa hold up. This has to stop. He told his foggy brain, not a road we're going down.

Is it the sex that would kill you? He tried to shut his brain up, moving to the sink and methodically washing his hands.

It did not help, as his brain went further astray. He tried to picture her strangling him or him strangling her, but instead his mind put the image of them naked and breathless. Killed by a passion more intense than any the world had ever know.

Seriously. Enough! He shouted silently, and shook his head which didn't seem too terribly smart as his heed began spinning with the pain of the motion.

Regardless of the pain it seemed to be effective as he grabbed the sink in a death grip. It successfully forced his brain away from the thoughts, as pleasant as they were in comparison to this moment.

As his eyes settled on his knuckles, white from the grip on the ledge of the sink, his mind drifted from her eyes, dark and sensual, as she writhed over him to her hands. She was probably a scratcher. She would dig her nails into the flesh on his chest as she screamed out his name.

Damn the pain meds! He shook his head again and the sharp pain was instant, but he couldn't stop staring at his grip on the ledge, hoping that he wouldn't slip off the wet surface. His hands brought him back to hers, but this time, thankfully, not in the bedroom.

He thought about her reaching out to him at a particularly upsetting part in the movie and it actually made watching the rest of the flick more enjoyable. She had a way about masking her features, not giving any hint of emotion on her face.

He had noticed she implored that entirely too often when they'd watch movies. It made it tough to tell if she was enjoying herself or planning strategy for a hostage situation in her head. But with her hand in his he could feel the way the movie played through her entire body. Her face may have been masked from years of practice, but her hands spoke volumes.

The tensing of her fingers during high intensity or action filled scenes. The way she loosened her digits so she could gently massage the skin on his palm during sentimental or emotional scenes. The way she tapped her finger against the side of his hand when not much of anything was going on as if willing the action on screen to hurry up and happen.

Yeah, she said a lot when she wasn't saying anything. He wasn't sure he wanted to watch another movie as they had before. Him chatting and telling her random facts while she sat stone faced and trying to focus on whatever he had been talking about.

If her hands were that expressive, maybe they could take to watching movies naked. He closed his eyes against his traitorous brain, splashed some cold water on his face and reached for the door handle, perhaps it was just the act of standing that had caused no more blood to be available for his brain.

Whatever it was, he had to stop it, because once they got outside the four walls of this hospital room things were going to go right back to normal and he didn't need anything lingering to torment him.

He was surprised at the scene that greeted him when the door opened. The nurse must have moved his bed to the other side, closest to the bathroom, while he was in there. The two beds were pushed together again with the rails down and one of the trays normally used to bring Dinner in was turned upside down laying a little over each bed in the middle. Ziva was shuffling a deck of cards.

He was unable to wrap his brain around the change at first. Before he realized it he was back at his bed. He hadn't even noticed the nurse had helped him over until she was getting him situated.

"You play poker, yes?"

He just nodded in response a little worried about how his voice might sound if he tried to speak.

xoxo

A/N: I thought I posted this yesterday. No wonder I didn't hear from anyone about what they thought of it. Sorry about that. Hopefully I'll have another one up tonight or tomorrow morning to make up for the delay.


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

Gibbs was certain from the glare Abby had been giving him that she didn't think having Tim run the interrogation was a very good idea.

The longer McGee stood out in the damn hall the more he was starting to wonder if Abby was right. Just as he was about to go out there and either slap him into shape or send him back in here to sulk and pout with Abby, the door on the other side of the glass opened.

"He's back." Abby said on seeing the confidence Tim entered the room with. She seemed surprised and if it were Tony or Ziva he would have given them a cocky little smile to say he told them so, but this was Abby.

Abby whose faith in Tim never seemed to waiver, so this was a mystery to be sure. One that he really didn't have time to deal with right now. He had to focus on on Tim and be vigilant. He might need to go in there and pull McGee out.

As he observed Tim in interrogation, though, he finally allowed himself to relax a little.

He hadn't been completely sure that sending McGee in was a good idea after the roller coaster the man had experienced on this case. But this was more McGee's case than any of theirs.

He had put his body and mind on the line. He had spilled his blood. He had risked everything on this one and Gibbs wasn't going to hold him back from finishing the job.

As he watched through the glass he felt Abby move closer to him and lay her hand on the crook of his arm. He placed his hand over hers as they continued to watch McGee.

Tim was pulling out cards from all the interrogations he had witnessed. The cocky smile and swagger from Tony, that Gitmo card he's sure McGee had picked up from him.

But what made Gibbs smile was something he'd never done, something he'd never seen Tony do, something that had to be all Tim.

McGee was fixing the boy with an evil little smile and the accompanying laugh would have sent chills down his back if he were in that boy's shoes. He watched the kid quaking in his seat. Trying to fight the fear by dealing out anger.

Then McGee went to leave the room with a parting shot about how homeland security would be there to get him soon and that damn evil smile.

Gibbs watched the boy collapse on himself, tears finally taking over as he begged for McGee not to leave him to his fate.

To McGee's credit he didn't jump on it excitedly, he turned slowly from the door, not closing it, "You've got nothing for me to keep this a civilian case. I have to let Homeland security have you. We've got nothing to hold you on."

Dominic slammed his hand on the table. "I've got more than enough. I want immunity for any ties to the bomb. I want it in writing before I say anything."

McGee sighed, frustration lacing the exhalation of air, "I doubt you have enough to keep you stateside."

"Just get the deal and I'll tell you everything you want to know."

McGee shrugged as if indifferent. "I'll see what I can do, but I wouldn't count on me being the next person through this door."

A few moments later Tim was walking back into interrogation and Abby was jumping into his arms. "That was amazing. Where did you pull that from?"

McGee gave a nervous chuckle, "Not sure exactly."

Abby pulled away from him and took a step back, allowing Tim to join Gibbs a few feet away.

"So, are we going to deal?"

Gibbs considered him a moment, "Think he has anything to add?"

Tim nodded, "I know he does. That whole story about not being involved just doesn't add up."

Gibbs just nodded and headed out to find the D.A. and see if he could get a deal drawn up. On his way out of the room he called back to McGee, "We need to get his mom in here to sign the papers with him."

As soon as he was out of the room he headed up to meet with Detective Thomas. As he walked into the squad room, he couldn't hide the smile when Detective Thomas introduced him to the District Attorney, Paul Beasley.

"Thought I'd have to drag you out of bed." Gibbs said as he shook the man's hand.

"With a case like this, terrorist ties and officers down in the line of duty, there is no way I'm lying down on the job."

As he explained the situation to the D.A., Gibbs wondered why all the local police they had to deal with weren't as helpful as this group had been. In the interest of justice they should be willing to work together like this group had. Maybe it was the warm temperatures and tropical climate that made them all so friendly and helpful.

Having gotten all the papers drawn up and signed by a judge they made their way back to the interrogation room.

McGee was standing in the hall, leaning against the wall next to a bench where a dark haired woman was sitting. Gibbs recognized her from the SOWF file on Trevor Macey.

"Angie Morgan?" Gibbs asked as he walked up.

The woman nodded. She seemed concerned and worried to be sitting in a police station in the middle of the night. "What's going on?"

"Mrs. Morgan, I'm sorry to inform you that your son is in very serious trouble."

The woman was shaking her head, "No, it's not possible. Dominic is a good boy."

McGee interjected, "He is willing to make a statement to take the charge of terrorism off the table."

"My son is _not_ a terrorist!"

"Ma'am, I'm going to need you to calm down." Gibbs said as the woman stood angrily off the bench.

"You want me to calm down?" she poked a finger into his chest as she ranted at Gibbs, "What the hell is wrong with you? Did those good for nothing friends of his put you up to this? Did they tell you it was my boy and they didn't have anything to do with it? Because if they did they are lying. Dominic wouldn't do anything like that."

Gibbs grabbed the hand that was poking him in the chest and held it firmly, but gently as he waited for her to calm down, "The other boys are dead. Killed in a shoot out with police a few hours ago."

He saw the fear sweep her anger away and he hurried to reassure her, "He's fine. He's just in a some trouble." He waited for her to take a comforting breath.

McGee cut in, "You've got a pretty smart boy there. He is making a deal to get the terrorism charges off the table and if the information will put him in any danger we will be able to set the two of you up in a new city with a fresh start."

"What terrorism?" she seemed to cling to the one thing that didn't fit with what she had already been told.

McGee gave her a consoling smile, "Have you seen the news at all today? Concerning the boat that was blown up in the marina today?"

When the woman nodded, McGee explained to her the connections between the three boys and the bomb. The Al-Qeada connection, the drugs and guns. They could see she wasn't going to be able to take much more so he continued, "We need you to sign the papers before we get his signature on them as well because he is a minor."

"What is this, what are you asking me to sign?" she asked looking over the forms.

As Gibbs flipped through the pages of the form he explained, "He is willing to give up what he knows about the drug trafficking and anything he knows about the crimes surrounding his arrest and the death of his friends in exchange for immunity from prosecution for terrorism."

The woman seemed to read through every word on the three page document, taking in the legalese, "This says if he doesn't have enough information you can void the immunity agreement."

"That's a safeguard," Tim explained, "It keeps lawyers and judges from granting immunity for high crimes and then having the information amount to something that's just nickle and dime. It has to be a fair trade or we're going to pursue the original charges."

The woman just nodded as she signed on the lines McGee pointed out, tears falling silently. When she was finished Gibbs headed into the observation room and McGee took the papers.

"Did you want to observe what he has to say?"

She seemed conflicted. She didn't want her perfect vision of her son to be tainted, but at the same time she didn't seem to want to keep wondering if she was wrong. After a few moments she nodded weakly. Tim led her into the observation room where Gibbs, Abby, and Detective Thomas were waiting.

"Boss?" he knew that look, pretty sure Gibbs didn't appreciate him bringing the mother of their suspect in to watch, "Mrs. Morgan would like to observe."

Gibbs gave him a curt nod and with the immunity papers under his injured arm he headed back into the interrogation room. Just outside the door he shook himself to loosen up, then set his shoulders and slowly opened the door.

xoxo

Ziva wasn't sure if Tony's change in mood was simply from the pain associated with his trip to the bathroom or something else.

When he had come out of the bathroom his cheeks were flushed, but the rest of his face was white as the sheets. He winced his way to the bed and was pointedly ignoring her eyes. She decided not to push things and just lay back shuffling Abby's deck of cards against her stomach.

Once he had settled and the nurse left he reached for the button that would provide nearly instant pain relief.

"Be careful." he looked at her questioningly, "You do not want to use that unless you have to or you may end up asleep very soon."

"Yeah, I guess." he responded and closed his eye breathing through the pain for a moment and putting the little dosing mechanism down.

"So, get on with distracting me, because I'm going to need some serious distraction to get over what that trip to the bathroom just cost me."

He said it with a hint of humor and she knew he meant something more then the pain he was experiencing. She just could not put her finger on whatever it was and with his eyes squeezed tightly as he lay back in his bed she could not read anything but pain on his face.

"Got any chips?" he asked through gritted teeth.

"We are not allowed to have anything but clear food yet."

"Poker chips, Ziva." he explained with a lopsided smile, that transitioned to that little sexy smile he'd get right before he said something he probably shouldn't, "Unless, of course, you were hoping to play for something else?"

She chose to ignore the lascivious look, "Abby did not bring poker chips." she said simply with a shrug as she dealt them each five cards.

"What are we playing for then?" he asked with a little grimace as he rolled slightly onto his left side so that he could face her more directly.

"Fun?" she asked with a little shrug, adjusting her pillows so she could comfortably reach everything.

He let out a little whiny groan, "Come on, Ziva. Raise the stakes a little." and when he wagged his eyebrows at her she couldn't help returning his smile.

"What shall we play for then?"

His grin widened and she saw him formulating some kind of plot. "We can bet answers."

"How do you bet answers?"

He sighed, sometimes dealing with English as a seventh language or whatever number it was was entirely too frustrating. "You bet answers and the winner gets to be the one asking whatever number of questions are in the 'pot'." She gave him a look that would normally bother him, but perhaps this would be a good way to get to the bottom of all the things that had always confounded him about his partner. "Are we playing stud or draw?" when she looked at him confused he explained, "Are we just using five cards or are we going to be able to trade some in?"

"Oh, yes. You can trade in three cards unless you have an ace then you can trade in four. Is that not how you play?"

"Yeah, that's called 'five card draw', there's more then one way to play poker." he slipped two cards onto the table and said, "I bet one answer and I'll take two cards."

She dealt him his two cards and laid three on the table. "And I will take three."

As she started dealing herself three cards he put a hand out to stop her, "You have to call or raise before you get cards."

"I guess I will call, then?" she didn't seem very confident and she started chewing her bottom lip when she looked at the cards she had gotten.

He tried to read her face and was pretty sure she didn't have a thing from the look she was giving the cards as if she was planning to kill each and every one of them.

"I bet one more." he said as he looked over his pair of fives and pair of Jacks.

"I will call." she replied and laid down her cards, revealing three nines.

Tony groaned and showed his two pair. "OK, so I owe you two."

"Two what?"

"Answers," he responded, "So let's go with the questions while I shuffle."

He picked up the cards and started getting them all straightened out so he could shuffle them.

"This is silly, I do not know what to ask you. You are like an open book I already know everything that is important to know."

He laughed, "I highly doubt that, but fine, we'll play an I.O.U. Game then if you'd rather."

Thinking that this was a chance to possibly get all the answers she had ever wanted from her partner or she could go back into her shell and safely convert their game into something as mundane as currency. "We should probably have some rules. What if there is a question we do not feel like answering?"

"We will _'build' _that bridge when we come to it." he teased with a wink.

"What are you trying to do with this game, anyway?"

"It will keep us both awake if there is something to focus on besides numbers and cards." He gave her a devious smile as he started dealing the cards out again. "That was a pretty lame waste of two questions, Ziva."

She thought back on their brief conversation and realized she had asked two questions and still didn't have any answers. "That is not fair, I was not ready."

Tony just smile at her and picked up his cards.

Tony won the next hand because Ziva folded after trading in two cards, but he only won one question in the exchange.

He was slightly tempted to ask the question he had managed to avoid asking when the nurse came in, but instead, as always, he decided to play it safe. "Why don't you ever wear skirts or dresses to work?"

Ziva laughed at him as if it were a ridiculous question, as she gathered the cards and shuffled them, "Have you ever tried to run in a skirt or tackle a suspect in a dress? It is not practical."

Ziva swept the next three hands, but much like Tony she intentionally avoided anything serious. She found out about his ill-fitting suits, how long he spent in front of a mirror doing his hair in the morning, where he went to summer camp as a kid, but she couldn't come up with another question.

"Come one Ziva, I'm ready to get back in here and win a hand for once."

"I cannot think of anything." she said with a shrug. "Perhaps we should play something else."

"There's nothing else you want to know about me?" he gave her a mock pout, "Are you really that disinterested?"

She glared at him, "This is a silly and juvenile game, Tony."

He just shrugged, "Perhaps, but it's passing the time."

He gestured to the clock and she noticed it had actually taken them nearly two hours to get through the five hands they played.

"That still does not help me pick a question." she shrugged and thought on the subject for a while.

"Just imagine we're in the interrogation room. That should help."

She gave him a devious smile as her brain switched to interrogation mode. "Aside from getting arrested with McGee, have you ever done anything illegal."

"Yep." he grinned and began dealing the cards.

"Hey. That was not an answer."

He just winked at her, "I answered the question. You need to be more specific with your questions."

Ziva huffed in frustration as she rolled her eyes at him and picked up her cards.

xoxo

A/N: OK, so I know this is silly for Tony and Ziva, but this is just passing the time for the two of them in a lighthearted way, because if they kept watching movies one or both would fall asleep before the test.

Sorry it took so long to get this uploaded. This was a really hard one to write and it took me nearly a full day to get it out. Shocking over the couple of hours I normally spend on a chapter. I hope the well is not running dry. I know where we're going though, so don't worry, we'll get there.


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

Tim walked back into the interrogation room, disbelief plastered across his face.

He pushed the forms over in front of Dominic as he sat across from the boy. "I can't believe they think you actually have anything worthwhile to say." he rolled his eyes to demonstrate how much he thought this whole endeavor was a waste of time. "Sign the forms. Then we'll see if you can save your skin."

Dominic began flipping through the forms, "My mom is here? She signed these?"

Tim just nodded, no additional information was going to be shared about anything until the boy gave them what they needed to wrap up this case.

With a shaking hand, Dominic signed at all the spots McGee pointed to and when he was done he placed the pen on the table and slid both it and the forms over to McGee.

"OK," Tim said, "Tell me everything, start at the beginning."

Dominic began fidgeting in his chair, and kept his eyes locked on his own hands as he spoke, "I met Jake on the basketball team. We hung out a few times and he'd buy stuff when we went out. He had a cool car and always had money. At first I thought it was because his parents were loaded, but he laughed when I asked if they spoiled him."

McGee listened as Dominic explained how Jake introducing him to Kyle. Told McGee about being enticed by the money, the thrill of sailing, the adrenaline of being a key figure on a drug run. He explained his first drug pick up and described how each one after had been nearly identical.

They met at predetermined coordinates and took on eight duffel bags. After they got the drugs, Dominic explained how they would weigh and separate the drugs on the boat.

It was always four bags, usually about fifty pounds of marijuana, and two bags a little over ten pounds each of cocaine and heroine. Once everything was cut and measured, the boys took the boat out and dropped anchor.

In the middle of the night they would load the drugs onto a dinghy and drive them into the swamp. The air boats rolled through for several hours after the drop and by the morning all the drugs had been sent out in their various directions.

"Were Jake and Kyle the only people you knew in the drug chain or were you involved with either side of where the drugs came from or went to?"

"Keep me stateside and I've got names, dates, amounts, anything you need to know."

McGee nodded, "And the bomb?"

He saw a new level of fear cross the boy's face as he just shrugged, "I don't know anything about that."

"Stop jerking my chain, Dominic." Tim fixed the boy with a frustrated look, "You're not going to be charged for any of this part of the conversation, so it shouldn't be too difficult."

Dominic leaned closer to Tim and fixed him with a serious look, "These are dangerous guys. I'll give you all the drug runners you want, but these guys don't mess around."

McGee shrugged, grabbed the papers off the table and moved to get up. "No dice."

"Wait," he begged and McGee sat back down with a huff of frustration, "Look man, I need to know that my mom is going to be protected."

McGee nodded, "We'll take care of her."

Dominic sighed and looked around as if he thought perhaps the men would come out of the concrete walls of the interrogation room. "We bought the bomb for Kyle's dad. I guess he needed it to take care of some guys who were trying to move in on his territory in South Beach. It came in with a normal delivery, but there were some extra guys on the delivery boat." Dominic looked around again, his voice full of nerves. "Really scary looking dudes. Classic terrorist looking guys with big nasty beards that looked like they could use a trim."

"Would you be able to pick them out if I brought in some pictures?"

The boy shook his head, eyes wide with fright. "Dude, this is a bad idea. I shouldn't be doing this. I shouldn't be talking to you."

McGee figured the boy needed a break. It had been at least a couple hours of going nonstop. Tim just went with his already laid groundwork of not caring. He simply shrugged and moved from the table, walking out of the room ignoring the boy at the table asking him not to go.

xoxo

Tony and Ziva managed to avoid any potentially volatile topics as they played through several more hands of Poker. While avoiding the most explosive of topics, each still managed to get the other to discuss some less traumatizing elements of their childhood, share a few happy memories of their families.

Ziva got to find out a little about Tony's mom when he told her about his favorite Christmas memory from his childhood.

"I found out my mom hid presents in the closet in her room when I found them one year. I was a little bummed on Christmas morning and didn't get out of bed as early as I normally would since there was nothing to be excited about."

"Somehow she knew I figured out what I was getting for Christmas. " He smiled at the memory. "But when I got up every present I had found in my snooping was piled by the front door, unwrapped. Mom had gotten new presents to put under the tree so I would still have the thrill and surprise. After we were done with the festivities and breakfast Mom and I took the pile of toys down to one of the local homeless shelters and passed them out to the kids there. It became something we did every year. At least the last few years before she died. After that, Dad and I didn't really do much for the holidays."

Ziva had quickly dealt the next hand to get Tony back out of the negative thoughts.

He won the next hand and got Ziva to talk about her own childhood and her sister.

She told him about learning how to cook from her mom and finding little jobs for her sister to do. "Tali was very messy to have in the kitchen, but I always told her she was the best at stirring. There was not much else she could do that did not involve dealing with heat or sharp objects." Ziva gave him a sad smile as he shuffled the cards and she continued, "The best was when we made falafel. We would sit at the table and roll up little balls for our mom to cook."

It was Tony's turn to deal out a quick hand to distract them. However, when he saw Ziva wince as she reached for her cards, he put his hand over hers on the little make shift table to stop her. "No more poker, Ziva."

"Are you worried I will find out more about your wildly criminal teen years?" she teased, but her voice was tinged with pain as she let him take the cards.

She relaxed against her pillow and watched his hands as he packed the cards into their little cardboard box.

"You need to take some pain medication, Ziva." he spoke softly. The look on her face was obviously strained and he was worried she might over tax her already fragile body.

Ziva glanced at the clock. "I will in an hour and a half."

Tony closed his eyes in frustration, "You don't have to be superwoman all the time. Just take the damn medicine and get some rest before you do permanent damage to yourself."

Her gaze rose to his eyes and she smiled slightly at him, "I am not taking anything until you are done taking your test. You are not taking your pain killers and you seem to be doing alright."

"Oh, I'm the opposite of alright. I want nothing more than to hit that button until it stops working and fall into a medically induced coma."

Ziva gave him a look of triumph, "See, all the more reason I cannot leave you to your own devices."

Tony sighed, "We both don't have to suffer through this, Ziva. Just take the damn medicine and stop being so stubborn."

"Which of us is being stubborn?" she replied with a scoff, "You never let anyone help you. You are so damn stuck in your ways that you would rather hide in a corner and flick you wounds alone than let anyone help you."

"It's lick your wounds, like an animal. Why would I _flick_ my wounds, Ziva?" he couldn't stop the chuckle at her slip up. Sometimes he wondered if she did that on purpose to distract him.

"I do not know, Tony. I do not understand half the things you American's say. And I understand even less about why _you_ do the things that you do."

"Ah, the heart of the matter. If you want to know what makes me tick you just have to ask." he smirked at her, finally relaxing into his bed.

Ziva just glared at him as he tucked the food tray down between their beds and let it drop to the floor. He slid the cards into the space between his bed and the rail that was behind him.

He didn't expect any kind of response from his question and stayed quiet, waiting for whatever she chose to change the subject to.

"I want to know why you push everybody away. Why you will not let me help you, even when I want to."

"I could ask you the same thing." he responded.

"Yes, but I asked first." she gave him a teasing smile with a little wink that made his heart start beating rapidly in his chest.

Was it the fear of actually dropping all the crap and just answering her question, or what it the teasing glint in her eyes. Panic or passion? Why couldn't he put his finger on which was causing this?

Tony breathed a heavy sigh as he gathered his thoughts. "I told you about my mom and kind of how things were after she left."

He was tempted to look away, but the understanding in her eyes kept him tethered right there. "It wasn't just the holidays. Pretty much everything that was warm about our house died with my mom." he cleared his throat, it was suspiciously tight. He reached over and gently brushed a lock of her hair off her face where it had fallen and the movement actually calmed him as he continued, "Dad had a lot to say about DiNozzos. 'DiNozzos don't cry'. 'DiNozzos don't talk about their feelings'. 'DiNozzos take care of themselves'."

She gently took his hand off her face and placed a soft kiss against his palm before resting it near her pillow between her two hands. "Have you ever thought that you might be more your mother than any kind of 'DiNozzo'?" she asked softly.

His brain was still on the feel of her soft lips against his palm. The warmth of her breath and the gentle squeeze after she shifted his hand away from her face.

It took him another moment to register what she had said and he felt his throat constrict tightly. When he spoke, all he seemed to be able to manage was a whisper. "I have hoped I was." he blinked to fight the desire to cry, because DiNozzos don't do that. "You having to ask that question means there's a good part of me that is exactly how my father trained me to be."

They fell silent for a long moment.

Ziva finally broke the silence, her eyes straying from his, "That is almost how it was for me, except instead of 'DiNozzos' don't do this or that, it was 'Mossad'."

"Look at me." he implored softly and she brought her gaze back to his eyes.

"I was groomed to rely only on myself, trained that anyone and everyone could be an enemy or a target. Told that if I relied on anyone they would most likely get me killed or find a way to use me for their own purposes."

Her tone was matter of fact, no emotion, but her eyes pleaded with him to stop her from talking. Apparently, now that she was talking she might need help to stop, but Tony couldn't find the words and wasn't even sure he wanted to.

"I was trained to feel nothing, observe everything, keep my thoughts to myself. My father taught me to be a solitary person with no ties. He used the death of my sister to 'educate' me on the logic behind his lessons."

He saw the anger brimming over into something else in her eyes. He didn't know what to do when she looked at him with that broken expression, so he started to rub his thumb across the back of her hand calming her.

"He used my feelings for Tali to teach me how important it is to keep ties to a minimum. To avoid getting too attached to anyone."

As he watched her swallow while taking a couple of deep breaths he found himself softly saying, "Stop."

"Stop what, Tony?" she asked, her tone tightly controlled.

"Stop following orders. You're burying things even now, trying to control your emotions, hide your feelings."

She blinked and looked away from him, "I don't think I know how to do anything else."

Tony laughed dryly in response, "Yeah, me neither."

They shared a comfortable smile, both understanding, more than ever the motivations behind the other. Each realizing, though not really for the first time, how incredibly alike they were.

"So," he began, "How'd you like that movie?"

Ziva gave him a lopsided grin to say thanks for changing the subject, "I would not have done it that way. It was effective though."

He was pretty sure she was talking about the movie, but she could have been talking about the abrupt subject change.

xoxo

A/N: Wow, over 750 hits yesterday. That's amazing! I only heard from a few of you, but that leaves me smiling and assuming the rest of you agree with the reviews I got. Otherwise I would assume you'd have told me whatever it was I messed up. ; )

Hope you enjoyed this chapter, too and stick with me for a few more days while we get my first fanfic wrapped up.

Thanks so much for reading!


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29

Gibbs found himself wondering where the hell his agent had run off to.

McGee had been doing good, making more headway than any of them expected and then he suddenly just walked out of the room.

"Call me when he gets back." Gibbs told Abby as he left the observation room and went in search of coffee. There wasn't much to do until McGee got back from wherever he had gone.

He found McGee as he passed through the squad room. Tim was speaking with a few of the local officers over a small photo book, rearranging the pictures of bearded men on several pages.

"Going to get coffee, McGee. You need some?"

He watched as Tim glanced at a clock on the wall of the squad room, apparently surprised to see it was nearing five in the morning. Gibbs saw him nod slightly before ducking back to the task at hand.

Gibbs headed out of the precinct. He had already mapped his route to the coffee stand several blocks away having spotted it on the way in. Normally he wouldn't go so long between cups, but it had been a hell of a night and he hadn't had a chance to pull himself away.

The crisp clear air of the early morning worked wonders on loosening the thoughts that he'd held back all night.

As he took long purposeful strides he worried over his three agents. Wondered on the future of their team. Not just the future as it pertains to whether Tony and Ziva would be able to come back to work. Nothing to do with how long the three of them would be out on medical leave and he would be without a team.

His concern for their future centered around his own worth as a member of the team.

He hadn't done a thing to track these kids down, he was too old to learn new trick, too old to figure out all the advances in technology.

He hadn't been much help in the cabin, Tim had been a one man SWAT team.

He hadn't been helpful in the hospital, not that there was anything he could do to help, really, but he didn't need to start a fight with Tony. He shouldn't have gone in ranting and he shouldn't have lost his temper.

What's done was done, hopefully he hadn't burned the bridge entirely.

Knowing his senior field agent as well as he did, he wouldn't be surprised if Tony had finally had enough of his constant mood swings. If this was just the thing that pushed him to where he finally moved on. Tony would take on his own team or skip town and move to some other city to start over again.

They had built a good friendship, granted one that was built almost entirely on sharing space without verbal communication on his part. Tony would do most of the talking while Gibbs toiled in the basement or grilled up some steaks that DiNozzo had brought over.

He had probably just thrown a match on the trust he had built with his Agent.

Gibbs stepped into the Coffee shop and by the time he was back out with a tray of drinks the sun was starting to rise over the horizon.

As he made his way back to the precinct he had a little smile on his face as he took in the soft orange rays of morning. His dark mood seemed to have disappeared with the deep blue of the predawn.

Perhaps it was the blossoming day, perhaps it was the coffee he had started consuming the moment it was handed to him, but he suspected it had more to do with a thought that occurred to him while he waited for his coffee order.

If Tony was really pissed at him, or bothered by his actions, or contemplating an existence anywhere other than with their team, he would have been cracking a lot more jokes.

His senior field agent had been sincere and talkative.

It's not that he hadn't made jokes, that would have been entirely odd, but he hadn't been making self deprecating jokes or scathing remarks hidden in humor that were just hurtful. Two of his favorite ways to push people away before they could push him.

No, there was no real likelihood that Tony was going anywhere.

At least, not if he could help it.

As Gibbs made his way back up to the squad room the dark cloud returned with the thought that Tony or Ziva might not be able to come back. Where would they be without one or both of them?

He shook the thoughts off as he delivered a coffee to McGee who was still in the squad room.

"Got ya a Mocha." Gibbs said as he passed Tim a few sugar packets, "Wasn't sure if you'd need these, too."

Gibbs rolled his eyes as McGee sipped it, made a face and dumped all the packets in his cup.

"Ready?" Tim asked after he'd stirred his coffee and taken a drink.

"That's your call."

McGee nodded, grabbed the little book of mug shots from the desk top he had been leaning against. "Let's finish this."

xoxo

Tony and Ziva managed to avoid any further topics of a personal nature. Tony regaled her with stories of his basketball days and championship wins. She told him about less dangerous missions, some fun she had traveling the world.

They talked and joked until there was a quiet knock at the door and it opened.

A short woman in her late forties came into the room pushing a large cart in front of her. She greeted them with a smile, "Hi, I'm Lisa."

They greeted her and exchanged pleasantries as she set up her equipment next to Tony's bed.

"I can leave your beds here, but just in case anything happens I'm going to need that rail up on the other side." she gave them a kind smile as they disentangled their hands and she reached over Tony to bring the rail up and lock it in place.

They both shifted over to lie on their backs and Ziva reached through the railing on Tony's bed with her right hand to grasp his left giving him a reassuring squeeze.

"OK," the technician said as she started tearing small pieces of medical tape off and laying them out across the side of her little cart ready to use. "So once I get these attached we'll get a few readings and then I'm going to need you to relax and go to sleep."

Ziva was examining her cart as the woman moved deftly around the equipment. There was a laptop on one side, but the rest of the space was taken up with tiny wires of all colors attached on one end to various little metal posts across the entire top. The other ends were dangling in all directions over the sides of the cart.

Once the woman had laid out what had to be fifty or more tiny pieces of tape she grabbed a jar of a clear viscous gel-like substance. And started applying it to the metal tips on the loose ends of the colored wires.

Lisa chatted easily, not really seeming to notice that neither of them was being very responsive as she dabbed the gel on the tips, applied tape and started attaching each tiny wire to Tony's scalp.

After a few minutes, Tony chuckled nervously, "How's my hair?"

Ziva glanced up to where more than a dozen wires were adhered to his head with medical tape and excess globs of the gel seeping from under the sensors attached across one side of his head. "I think you have less gel in your hair now than you normally do." she said with a straight face.

"Ha ha, very funny." he remarked dryly, rolling his eyes at her.

She was not about to tell him how much he actually resembled the explosive that had landed them in this hospital in the first place. The myriad of wires attached to his head continued to increase until it seemed that every square inch had a little wire poking out from it.

Lisa moved from his scalp to the edges of his face applying several sensors across his forehead and temple, behind his ear, his throat. She had to pull the gown away from his chest to apply a couple of sensors near his heart.

When Lisa was finished she grabbed a large roll of gauze and had Tony lift his head off the bed so she could wrap it around the sensors there. She made sure all the little wires wouldn't get jostled if he moved or thrashed around at all.

He was left with what looked like a large puffy white headband with so many tiny wires sticking out of the top that if he could see himself she was sure he would start talking about some robot movie.

"Will he be able to take some pain medication before he falls asleep?" Ziva asked and Tony perked up.

Lisa gave them both a sympathetic smile, "It would be best if he waited until we were done so we could get the most accurate results possible."

He nodded slightly, almost imperceptibly, "It's fine. I've made it the last 7 hours, I think I can make it a while longer." he took a breath as if bracing for something as he turned back to Ziva, "You should take something, though, Ziva."

"I will." she waited for the recrimination she knew was coming, but he just raised an eyebrow at her, so she added "As soon as you're asleep."

He shrugged and turned back to Lisa, "She's stubborn." he explained.

Lisa just smiled at him, "I don't think there is a single person on the staff of this hospital that doesn't know how true that is."

Tony gave her a quizzical look as Ziva groaned out her frustration next to him.

"I guess she's stubborn and humble." Lisa began typing on her computer and continued speaking despite the fact that Ziva was glaring at her.

Apparently she was unable to see over the computer screen. "She stood at your bedside for nearly three hours with a collapsed lung. Guess that's why they let you have a room together, so she didn't do anything else that crazy." She smiled at them and was right back to her computer in a flash. "Not that I'm calling you crazy, and I'm not saying it wasn't admirable, but from a medical perspective. . ."

She felt Tony's hand tighten on hers and thought he was pulling his away from her, but when he continued gently tugging she finally looked up to meet his eyes.

As Lisa continued chatting about how courageous and selfless Ziva was, she droned out the woman's voice as she tried to figure out if there was more wonder or reproach in her partner's eyes. She shrugged, nothing to say in her defense, and she looked away again.

She was tempted to take her hand back. He really didn't need her reassurance, but she fought the urge to pull back inside herself.

She had no doubt that once they were out of this hospital things would go back to normal, but while they were here it was nice to have someone to rely on. Someone who seemed to be relying on her in return.

Still, she felt herself wondering if this was just setting them up of an uncomfortable work environment when they got back. Setting them up for a fall that neither of them needed.

He tightened his grip on her hand as if aware she was thinking about pulling away. She gave him a weak smile to let him know she wasn't going anywhere and he relaxed.

"Alright, so we've got everything all hooked up." Lisa glanced up from her computer and started adjusting a light that was attached to a stand on one corner of her cart.

She angled the light so it was shining directly towards Tony. "I'm going to get the lights."

Once Lisa dimmed the lights considerably she felt Tony's hand twitch in hers.

She knew this was the part he was worried about. He was concerned that something would happen once they started the tests. Something that jeopardized his career and his calling.

"It is going to be fine." she said on a whisper, not sure whether she was trying to reassure him or herself. It was selfish, but as he lay here waiting to hear his fate she couldn't help thinking of her own.

If he didn't come out of this, if he wasn't alright and couldn't come back to work would she be able to trust whoever they got to replace him? She knew he couldn't be replaced, not actually, but whoever took his place would have some big shoes to fill and she found herself thinking that it wouldn't be possible.

How much did she want either of them to rely on each other in the moments to come if everything was going to end. She felt the urge to pull away again, hide from a truth she didn't want to face that could be just a few moments away.

Her eyes fell on the monitor next to Tony's bed, his pulse had escalated and she could hear his breathing pick up.

Pushing her selfish thoughts aside she rolled gently onto her right side and slipped her other hand through the railing to run gently over his arm.

A comforting motion from the crook of his elbow to his wrist and back up. She wasn't sure if it was the right thing to do or if it was even helping him. It took a few minutes for his heart to start slowly settling down.

When Lisa stopped typing something into her computer she reached for a switch on the light pole.

It began rapidly flashing a bright white light.

Ziva's breath caught in her throat as she watched Tony's heart monitor suddenly spike, his arm tensed under her touch and she felt his hand contract almost painfully around her fingers.

xoxo


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter 30

Tony's mind was spinning with thoughts that confused even each other. Lisa's words were playing in his head as if on a loop. He didn't catch a word past hearing that Ziva had stood at his bedside for three hours with a collapsed lung.

She hadn't denied it, even seemed upset with the EEG technician for saying anything. She had wanted to keep him in the dark.

He couldn't explain the warring thoughts that ranged between murderous anger and a soft flutter of something indescribable warming him from the inside out.

His mind was jarred from the self inspection as Lisa moved to dim the lights.

Tony knew what was coming as soon as Lisa trained the light on him. Knew she was going to flash it in his face hoping to inspire some kind of Japanese Anime style reaction out of his body. To trick his brain into overdrive and cause a massive overload that created a seizure and ended his career.

It was the last thing in the world he wanted. He felt his heart race, he was suddenly having difficulty controlling his breathing. But then he felt Ziva shift next to him and watched her reach her other hand through the railing on his bed.

Ziva's hand in his was reassuring, but when her fingers began running over his arm, he realized she was causing the opposite of a calming reaction.

He couldn't fight the heat that radiated from her touch. Regardless of how much he knew he shouldn't be reading into this situation, he felt himself wondering what she had really meant when she said that he would still have her.

Would she really still be there for him if he wasn't with her on the job everyday? And would he even want her there. Want a witness to his wallowing.

Would she be a companion and a relief or a constant reminder of what he could never have again? Was there a chance that she would be something more? More than they were before, more even than they were even now.

Gentle touches that went further than reassurance, further than kind thoughts and well wishes. Gentle touches that lingered for a stolen second and then turned heated.

Touches that spoke the words he knew he wasn't able to. Spoke his hope and fear. Spoke his dreams and ambitions. Said all the things he should be saying to her now, before his life was inexplicably altered, before she thought the words were spoken out of some kind of grief or remorse or self pity.

But he knew he wouldn't speak them. Knew he wouldn't say them with words or touches. Not now, and probably not ever. She did not need to be held back with his dreadfully sordid, chronically messed up psyche.

Slowly he let the awkward feelings wash away and re-engaged his detective brain. Ziva had been without pain killers as long as he had. There went his theory from the bathroom trip earlier that the personality change she seemed to be experiencing was from chemical alteration.

So why was she still being gentle, reassuring, comforting? Did she sense what was coming? Was she also worried about what it might mean if this was the end for their time working together? Perhaps she was trying to speak with her actions as he had thought he should do.

Or was it more mundane than that? Was it just her pulling from the feeling they had discussed what seemed a lifetime ago in the car? Some crazy combination of underdeveloped maternal instinct and overdeveloped protective instinct.

Was she doing all of this for him? Doing it out of a morbid commitment to seeing him through this regardless of how uncomfortable it made her. When she had tried to pull away a few moments before it was like she confirmed that suspicion for him.

He saw it all over her face. She didn't want to be there comforting him. She didn't want to be stuck with a lame duck partner who was sure to turn into an emotional wreck the moment he became conscious again after what this test would surely do to him.

She was probably thinking how much she wished she could get out of bed as he watched her eyes dart around the room as if planning her escape. He felt her trying to pull away.

He was feeling selfish, however, and he kept her hand tightly in his grasp until the moment of instinctual flight passed and she relaxed again.

As soon as the flashing started he felt his body tense, was this it? Was this the end of everything he knew?

He heard Ziva gasp next to him and her hand froze on his arm, but he couldn't look at her. He was mesmerized by the rapid flashing despite the blinding pain it was causing.

It took him several seconds to realize that nothing was happening aside from an insanely intense headache and another moment to realize he was squeezing the hell out of Ziva's hand.

He let out a nervous chuckle as he loosened his grip and finally looked away from the blinding flashes, "Sorry."

She just squeezed back and started moving her hand across his arm again.

He shifted his gaze to her hand, the strobe-like flashing making her movements look halting. It was disconcerting as he felt the smooth gentle glide of her nimble fingers on his flesh, but watched the hand moving as if in stop motion.

He felt himself zoning and was more than happy when that bright flashing stopped. He was even relieved that it cast the entire room into darkness from the contrast of how bright it had been moments before.

"That's a good sign, yes?" Ziva asked the technician.

"Everything looks normal so far, but we're just getting started."

"Can we, uh," Tony started and then groaned when even the sound of his own voice was loud in his head. "Can we leave the light off for a while?" he finished on a whisper.

"That's fine." Lisa responded with a similar whisper that didn't mask the cheerful note in her voice. "I'm just about done with this part and I'm going to need you to start relaxing and trying to get some sleep."

Tony felt his eyes wander to the window and he saw the first rays of the sunrise peaking over the buildings in the distance.

"Hey, Zee?"

"Yeah?" she looked at him and he angled his chin towards the window to draw her gaze.

"When we watched the sunrise yesterday morning, did you ever think that 24 hours later you'd be snuggling with me in bed watching it come up again?" he grinned when she slapped him lightly on the arm, but held firm when she tried to pull away.

After a moment she spoke, her whisper sultry and teasing, "Did you think we would keep each other up all night in bed together, and you would still be in the middle of a sexual dry spell?"

He didn't care about the shooting pain, he couldn't stop the deep laugh that rumbled his chest. "That's my Ziva."

She was still looking the other direction out the window, but he saw the quirk of her cheek as she smiled into the slowly rising pink and orange hues filtering into their darkened room.

xoxo

Abby was getting anxious. It seemed that Gibbs and McGee had been gone forever and she was alone in the observation room with Angie Morgan.

The poor woman had already lost her husband and now her son was a criminal. She had lost him too and now she didn't have anything left of her family.

Angie Morgan turned to Abby after several minutes of tense silence. Her eyes, scared and lost, were pleading with Abby for some kind of reassurance, something she could say or do, but there was nothing.

There wasn't a thing anyone could do to help this woman cope with the loss she was suffering.

Just as Abby was about ready to suggest the woman go home and try to get some rest or something, the observation room door opened.

Gibbs handed her a coffee, "I know it's not a Caf-Pow!, but I'll owe you."

He threw out his empty cup, grabbed one of the last two in the drink tray and handed the tray with the last coffee over to Angie Morgan, "I didn't know how you took it, so there is some cream and sugar on there."

The woman looked blankly at the cardboard tray with a single white cup in it and a small pile of cream and sugar in the middle. "Uh, black is fine." she finally responded, taking the cup out and handing the tray of cream and sugar back to Gibbs.

He tossed it out and Abby could sense a new level of calm in him. Funny how caffeine did that for him. If it weren't for his extreme attention to detail and perceptive nature she might think he was one of those people with Attention Deficit Disorder who drank coffee and mellowed out.

McGee was back on the other side of the glass wall, a coffee in his hands as well. Gibbs had gone all out in his hunt for his precious black gold and was in a sharing mood. Interesting development, but not unheard of.

It took Tim longer than she had expected to get the boy over his obvious aversion to telling them about the terrorists. Tim was being kind of a bad ass tonight and she was still struck with the change in attitudes from when he left observation to first walking into the interrogation room.

She had felt the doubt and guilt radiating off him as he left, but then something happened in those several minutes he was alone in the hall.

Something that changed his mind, shifted his shoulders back up and his spine straight as an arrow. Something that made him waltz into that room like he hadn't a care in the word, and rip the truth right out of the mouth of the boy they really had no evidence against.

As she watched, the boy picked out a photo from the book. McGee flashed the number two on his fingers and Gibbs grabbed his phone heading out of the room. Angie and Abby were alone again, but this time they at least had something other than the defeated look on her silent son's face as he sat in the interrogation room alone.

Abby was caught up in what McGee was doing more than what he was saying and she was glad the tech guy had left the video rolling, because after several minutes she was certain she wouldn't be able to recount a single thing that transpired in that room for Gibbs.

She was lost in her own world of thinking about the past and wondering on the future. Tim had grown and changed a lot since they had last been together. He had earned her respect and admiration on more than one occasion.

So why, when he already had a piece of her heart did she want to hide the rest away? She felt herself starting what seemed a never ending battle with herself over this issue. She seemed to war with herself off and on, but neither side ever won. Both sides were her and therefore equally stubborn and cunning.

She heard something in Tim's voice just then that pulled her out of her long standing argument. It would keep, not like it was going anywhere.

Whatever he had said, it was with a note of pain. It was masked in anger, but the pain was there, too. What did he say. She wracked her brain for a moment trying to remember what she hadn't really been listening to.

Suddenly Tim yelled and slammed his hand down on the table, "I said tell me what happened to Lieutenant Macey."

The boy was considering him with frightened eyes. She didn't blame him, this McGee was almost scaring her.

She had assumed to this point that it was all an act, but the emotion in his voice, the barely controlled rage, the shaking of his undamaged hand as he clenched and unclenched his fists made her wonder if she should call Gibbs back in here.

Better yet, call Gibbs in there to take over because McGee had well and truly lost it.

This case had been taking his flesh a pound at a time since the beginning.

Taking his emotional strength as he fell into the mind of their victims through his journal entries, found and passed on loving words that would have gone unspoken to the woman their victim had silently lived for and died never knowing the bond they shared.

Taking his physical strength as he was lacking sleep, bullet riddled, broken and bleeding only hours before.

Taking his mental strength as he watch his two partners scared, broken, suffering and there was nothing he could do for them except get what they had all come here for.

He could get answers.

That was his drive and she knew it. He was going to get that boy to tell him whatever he wanted to know and there wasn't a damn thing anyone was going to do to stop him because his trigger was primed, the detonator ready and he was about to explode on this boy if his mouth didn't open.

Please, please, please just tell him what he wants to hear and we can all walk out of here.

It was possible her silent pleading had reached him through the glass on some weird telekinetic or psychic level, but it was more likely that Tim taking a step to move around the table is actually what got the boy talking.

"He was following me. I didn't know it until it was too late." his words came out in a rush and McGee's forward motion stopped but not the damn clenching and unclenching of his fists.

"He followed us to a drop, saw us take on the bags and tailed us to the marina. He must have watched us for hours because he didn't make his presence known until we were anchored out near the mouth of the river waiting for the time to be right to move our cargo."

McGee moved to the far wall as if mentally trying to distance himself from the kid in order to control his potential reaction to the situation.

Abby heard Angie Morgan next to her whispering a soft prayer of her own, "Please, no. No." she kept saying over and over again as if sheer repetition would make what Dominic said next any less true.

"It was my turn to keep watch on the boat. He surprised me on deck after Jake and Kyle left with the shipment. That nosy bastard always has his face up in my business. He was always coming around and trying to be all buddy buddy. He wasn't my dad. He couldn't ever take his place, but he thought he could come into my life and tell me what to do? Yeah right." Dominic's voice had transitioned into petulant teen rather quickly as he discussed Trevor Macey with disdain.

It was as if he thought that caring about other people and showing an interest in them was something that should be looked down upon instead of encouraged.

McGee fixed him with a death glare that rivaled even the ones Ziva gave Tony when he stepped out of line and Dominic finally shut up.

"That man, the one you detest so much? Trevor Macey? The one you strangled because you're a worthless spoiled brat? He really did care about you. He bought you a car because you always helped out your mom." Abby watched as the boy seemed to sink into himself the more Tim spoke to him with rage burning behind his deep level voice, "He worried about you for months and took his own personal days off work just to get to spend more time with you. To try to help you."

"Whatever, man." Dominic dismissed weakly, but McGee threw the book of terrorists across the room where it slammed against the wall breaking the binding and sending pictures fluttering all around the floor. The boy's eyes widened and his mouth clamped closed.

"Do you want to know what you did? Did you even know who that man was?" she heard the crack in Tim's voice as the emotion started to take over, but he recovered immediately as he pushed on, allowing the anger to win in his struggle because it was the one that wouldn't leave him sobbing in a puddle in the middle of the interrogation room.

"He was a career Navy SEAL. He did his time in war serving and protecting out country. When he came home and people like your father didn't he took the hard jobs of being a dad without ever asking for the love in return. Do you know what he got? He got twenty-three kids without dads who looked to him for love and support. Who looked for him at their soccer games or waited for him to come on their cub scout camp outs. Who asked him for dating advice or to go check out college campuses with them. Because of you there are twenty-three other little boys and girls out there who not only lost their real father, but lost the one person after their father who they could rely on."

McGee took a long shaky breath as she saw from the corner of her eye Angie Morgan moving away from her towards the door. The woman was making a run for it and Abby didn't blame her. Her son was a grade A sociopath.

"You killed their father, the only one they had left. You did that. You're worse than those terrorist ass holes," he said pointing at the pictures scattering the ground, "Your worse than them because they kill out of hatred and fear. You killed an honorable man, a father, a patriot, for what? For Money? You're garbage!"

Tim slumped against the wall, tirade over. Just as he relaxed against the cold stone wall the door to the observation room opened up and Angie Morgan walked in, so full of life now, where moments before she had been a sobbing wreck of a woman.

Abby watched, in the way people can't look away when they see a car wreck on the side of the road, as the tiny, frail-looking woman jumped on her son. She tackled him like any great first string NFL linebacker, knocking him right out of his chair and landing on top of him.

She rose up on her knees and began striking him as she shouted and sobbed, "You selfish little jerk! How could you do this? How? He was good to you, you good for nothing little – oof!"

McGee pulled her forcefully off the boy who was bleeding anew from his already damaged face. She was surprised and seemed winded by the force Tim had to use to get her off her son.

He pushed her in front of him out into the hall where she collapsed into his chest sobbing as he closed the door behind him. Blood was dripping from a cut on her hand as it grasped at his shirt for support, seeming to be trying to keep herself upright.

Abby sprinted out of the Observation room just as Gibbs rounded the corner on the way back towards them and Tim's arms came up around the woman to comfort her.

"What the hell happened?"

Abby met him before he got too close and interrupted Tim and Angie crying together over a loss that both of them were feeling on different levels, "We're going to need a medic for Dominic." she said simply as she led Gibbs back the way he had just come from.

xoxo

A/N: Sorry for the long delay. I've actually been working on another story, or a continuation on the side that I'm not sure will pan out, but it has me intrigued and has distracted me from this just a little, but never fear the muse for SSD is not gone and we are on to the last one, maybe two chapters. This time I'm sure of it. Probably...

This one proved yet again that my story has a mind of its own. I never would have thought that little broken woman would have all that built up in her, but I guess we all have our breaking points.


	31. Chapter 31

Chapter 31

Tim was exhausted. He couldn't remember a time he had been more completely worn out.

Gibbs had, thankfully, sent him and Abby back to the hotel to grab a few hours of sleep in Tony and Ziva's vacant rooms. He was more than grateful for the respite after going non-stop for a day that seemed more like a week.

Gibbs had given them a large Ziploc bag with Tony and Ziva's things from the hospital. It contained two room key cards, wet wallets and badges and their ruined cell phones.

Abby held the bag in her lap as McGee drove. She had been staring at it for several minutes when she finally looked away from the bag and up to him, "I wish we could call them. See how they're doing."

"I know, but I'm sure they're fine."

"Yeah and I know we need sleep and all, but if they had their phones we could at least send them a text or something so they knew we were thinking about them. That we didn't forget them in there and that we caught our guy and probably a whole lot more of them once Dominic testifies."

When he responded with, "We could get them new phones when we get up." she beamed at him and grabbed his hand off the steering wheel. She held it to her lips for a moment and moved it to her lap where she stroked it gently.

Whatever had earned him this gesture was something he wished he could bottle. Something he could pinpoint to have on hand for when he didn't understand her pulling away from him.

"You know," he continued as he finally pulled into the parking garage at the hotel, "If we get them iPhones they will be able to video message and they'll never be without your lovely company again."

She squeezed his hand before releasing it so they could get out. "That would be nice, Timmy."

McGee found himself wondering why the childish nickname he hadn't used since he was five sounded so soothing rolling off her tongue. Especially when it frustrated him to have his family slip up and use it.

He didn't have long to ponder it as they grabbed their go bags from the trunk and headed up to the rooms. She placed her arm through his as they walked and rested her head on his shoulder in the elevator.

When they got upstairs she used one of the key cards form the Ziploc bag to open one of the rooms. She was only inside a second before coming back out and closing the door behind her. She opened the other room and led him inside.

Abby threw her go bag on the bed and started rifling through it. "I need a shower."

Tim looked down at his cast with annoyance, "Yeah, me too."

She pouted at him a moment before disappearing into the bathroom. He heard her rummaging through the drawers before coming out with a triumphant look on her face and a plastic garbage sack in her hands.

Abby wrapped one of the hand towels around the top of his cast and quickly maneuvered the bag over it, tying it securely in place. "Just be careful and this will work out."

She had disappeared to Ziva's room to shower and he struggled through washing and rinsing with one hand. He wondered if she would be back or if she would just go to sleep in there.

He hoped she'd return, but he was certain she wouldn't. Even if it wasn't after six in the morning when they had been up all night, he had blown it with his brash move in the ER earlier.

He shouldn't have done that, but even now he didn't fully understand why he had. Logically he knew why, because there were times when he wanted nothing more than to hold her close and never let go. He had gotten very good at keeping those feelings at bay, but when near death had knocked his resolve had been shaken to the core.

Drying off after his shower was proving nearly as difficult as getting cleaned up, but he finally managed it. He carefully slipped on the pajama pants he had brought in with him and made his way out of the steam-filled room.

Tim was surprised to find Abby curled in a half-sitting position on the bed with her feet tucked under her wearing a puffy white robe like the one hanging in the room he'd just left.

She smiled when he walked out, "Everything go alright?"

He couldn't stop the sarcastic chuckle as he brought his hand, still in the plastic bag, over to her to untie. "If by 'alright' you mean I couldn't reach half the things I normally can without my ribs hurting like crazy, than yeah, everything went great."

She gave him a sympathetic smile as she deftly removed the bag and disposed of it in the trash can next to the bed. She used the towel to dry her hands that had been dampened by the moisture clinging to the outside of the white garbage sack and stretched her legs out under the blanket.

Tim watched her toss the towel towards the chair in the corner and almost in the same motion reach out to him. She grabbed his arm just above the cast and pulled gently as she scooted over.

He felt his heart swell with familiar thoughts and feelings, but pushed them aside.

He knew her too well. She wanted comfort tonight, or this mornings really, nothing more. She wasn't trying to start anything. She certainly wasn't trying to rekindle an old flame. She was his friend and she needed him,

He knew he had to reign in the wild thoughts or he was going to become that guy again.

The guy who pushes her further than she is ready to go and loses her.

So he wiped the thoughts away as he got settled into the bed on his back, injured arm outstretched and uninjured arm securely pinned beneath Abby's head as she scooted to lay on the pillows.

He felt her shift next to him. She arranged herself for a moment rolling towards him on her side until her body was flush against his. Abby wrapped her arm around him, being careful of the ugly bruises covering his chest and stomach. She shifted again, slinging her leg over his and burrowing into the covers and his side.

He felt a sharp pain in his chest as she adjusted again, but tried not to react. Despite the pain this was something he wanted to savor and he wouldn't be able to do that if he ran her off by showing that she was causing him pain.

He never thought they would be here again.

Abby finally settled and was gently running her fingers, feather soft, over his chest. Her eyes were locked on the angry purple marks, some spots so dark they were like black marble.

Her hand stopped over his heart and she stayed silent for so long he was sure she had fallen asleep. He knew he should close his eyes, too. He couldn't do it. He just wanted to take a few more minutes to revel in the moment that had been so long lost, even if it was just a fantasy.

"Tim," her voice was soft, but he could hear the tremble.

"Yeah, baby?" he asked, an old habit long buried resurfacing with the pet-name. He felt himself wince at the phrase and thought she was probably doing the same.

But Abby just sighed, a long exhalation burdened with everything from the events that brought them here, "I was so scared."

"Shh." he replied, moving his hand to gently stroke her still damp hair as he wondered if she was crying. "Everyone is fine. We're all still here."

He heard her sniff and now he knew she was crying. He hated to see her cry, it tore him up inside. "You almost weren't"

Her whisper was so soft he almost hadn't heard it. Now he felt like crying too and it was something he had to fight.

He reached down, hooking his finger under her chin and gently guiding her to look at him, "Abby," he swallowed the lump in his throat as he saw the tears in her eyes, "I'm fine. I'm right here and I'm not going anywhere."

She shifted, propping herself on an elbow so she could look down into his face, close enough that her loose hair dangled across his neck. "Are you? Are you, really?"

He didn't understand the question, so he just cocked an eyebrow at her.

"You have been so far away for so long and then this case just seemed to get under your skin and not let you go. It almost didn't let you go, Tim. You almost died last night and you don't even seem to realize it."

He laughed, he knew when she glared at him that it was probably not the best reaction, but he couldn't help himself. "You think that I don't know how close I was to dying? I know how lucky I am. I know that this life is fragile and in my line of work there will always be danger around every corner. I'm sorry, Abby. Sorry that I put you through all of this. Sometimes I wish I could just stop doing it, but I can't." he sighed out the frustration he was feeling, "I thought about it once, a while ago."

Her tears had stopped as she waited for him to continue. He had a moment where he couldn't remember what he had been talking about as he thought about the first time he found out that the overly active, extremely talkative, ball of energy that was Abby was probably the best listener he had ever met. She had a reputation for talking a lot, but when he needed to talk something out, she would always be his first choice.

"I don't know if I told you," he said, hearing the subtle hints of embarrassment tinge his voice, "I'm actually, uh, what's called financially stable."

She made a face. He knew that face. It was the one she used when he said something that made him sound, in her words, 'like a stodgy old guy' and he couldn't fight the smile despite the seriousness of their conversation.

"I know, but how else am I supposed to put it?"

She shrugged her own smile forming, "You could say 'I'm loaded' or something. I mean, seriously, Tim. But what does that have to do with anything?"

"I don't have to work. You've seen where I live, how I live. It's not about money. I could quit working and still be more than comfortable with my royalties and writing a little on the side. I just couldn't do it. This is me. This is who I am."

He felt the smile tugging his lips as he continued, "I love helping people and knowing that I can make a difference. I love that I can do all these things that make me a total 'geek' to Tony and Ziva and even Gibbs, but they couldn't do them even if they wanted to." she laughed at that.

He tucked her hair behind her ear so he could see her face without the shadow her hair was casting.

"I love that me being a 'geek' cracked this case when there was no evidence. I love that we got justice. I love justice." he added the last line wistfully, but then his tone changed, suddenly became soft, "Doing what's right has never felt as wrong as it did today in the ER when you told me I could have died without ever seeing your face again. The stupid thing is that I would do it all again tomorrow, because that's who I am. I know you don't like it, but it's true. This is me, Abby."

Her smile widened from a little smirk to a full bright smile that twinkled in her eyes. "I know." she whispered shifting just a bit closer to him, "I know who you are, Tim. I've always known."

He heard a note of something in her voice, but he didn't have time to determine what it was as he watched her leaning toward him. He was too distracted with thoughts that perhaps he had fallen asleep and had dreamed all of this before he felt her lips brush his.

The contact was brief, but when she pulled away she stayed a breath away, hovering over him. He tilted his chin up to capture her mouth with his again and when she leaned into him and slid her tongue over his lower lip he was lost to the feeling of her.

xoxo

Ziva had held Tony's hand until he fell asleep and his grip relaxed. Held it while the EEG Technician finished her tests and whispered what she noticed, but said the neurologist would have to review it to be certain.

It looked like Tony was going to be OK. They were all going to be alright and, though they had a long road of recovery and desk duty ahead of them, everything would, eventually, go back to normal.

Why did the thought of things being just as they had before bother her? She should not care one way or another, but this trip to the hospital had changed her. It was going to take her a lot of focus and resolve to mend the fences she had broken down..

She had almost killed him on that boat, but he had not held it against her.

She had watched him nearly drown, pulled him to safety only to watch reality crumble around them in the wake of his seizure. 

She had allowed her mind to think of a life where one or both of them couldn't go back, a life where the situation was changed, where things were different. A situation where thoughts, emotions, urges were acted upon instead of pushed aside. Pushed aside to prevent emotional involvement that would hinder their work, to prevent involvement that could ruin the team, involvement that could break her spirit when things went bad as they always did.

But nothing would change. He was fine. She was fine. Life would go back to how it was before, how it had always been.

That really was not a bad thing, but for right now, before reality infiltrated again, she would take this small comfort.

She stroked his arm, held his weightless hand and suddenly felt the urge to strangle the nice woman who had given Tony his EEG test when she moved to him and began removing the sensors.

His eyes popped open at that immediate pain of the tape being pulled from his scalp.

She rolled further, bracing herself on her good side, but reaching out with her left arm. She winced at the pain as her arm reached all the way across Tony, grabbed the little handle next to him and pressed the red button there.

A short hissing sound greeted them, followed by Tony speaking, "Thanks."

It was all he seemed to be able to say and experiencing her own pain she didn't have a response. She lay back on her back again, fully in her own bed and her own space for the first time in so long that she almost wondered how she would handle the coming separation.

She reached out and pressed the button for her own pain relief and nearly instantly felt the drug working its way through her system.

The pain began to dull, but Tony was still whining next to her as Lisa pulled the two sensors off his chest. Ziva watched as she removed the gauze wrapping all the wires on his head before pulling off a few more. She saw the twitch and grimace each time and took in exactly how many tiny wires there were everywhere. This would take fifteen minutes at this rate and prove entirely more painful than it had to be.

"Hang on." Ziva said as she shifted back to her side. "Could you?" she asked the woman, gesturing to the railing on Tony's bed that was still up and unfortunately in her way.

"Oh, of course, dear. I'm sorry." she smiled at Ziva and reached over Tony, dropping the railing back down.

She smiled kindly into Tony's eyes as she shifted further onto her side, propping herself up on an elbow to reach out and run her hand over Tony's cheek. She let her fingers gently trail down the stubble on his jaw before sweeping back up to his cheek.

The next time her hand followed his jawline down she let her thumb trail over and trace along the curve of his lips.

She was trying to accomplish something here, but for a moment as she stared into his eyes, dark with heat and eyelids heavy, she nearly forgot what her mission was.

Tracing the contrast along that small patch of his face was enthralling. Rough stubble living in harmony right next to the surprisingly soft flesh on his lips. Her mind went back to the beach and the brief moment of feeling those lips on hers. She knew from the fact that he hadn't mentioned it that he really didn't remember the moment, but she couldn't get it out of her head. Especially as she savored the feeling of his lips under her thumb.

She watched as his eyes fluttered closed, apparently savoring the feeling as she was, but that had been what she was waiting on. Reluctantly she pulled her hand from his mouth. Slowly letting it glide up his cheek, fingers brushing softly past his temple, up over his forehead.

His face was relaxed, but his breathing had picked up. If this weren't for his own good she might wonder if her next move was actually the best thing in this situation. Whether she should be doing this when he was so calm and contented.

Shrugging off the doubt she let her hand lift off his forehead. She suddenly reached over his head and in an instant had grabbed the bundle of wires in a single handful. Before he could open his eyes at the missing touch she gave a quick and efficient tug, immediately pulling all the wires from his scalp.

"What the hell?" he hollered as his eyes snapped open and he looked at her with confusion.

She passed the wires to the technician and gave him an apologetic smile, weakened in effectiveness by the wince at pain that her medication was not able to lessen from her quick movement.

"She was going to pull them off one at a time. Do you have any idea how long that would take?" she gestured towards Lisa who seemed to be retreating from the room as quickly as she could, anticipating that this was not going to be a pleasant conversation.

"Thanks." he said tightly, but she didn't believe him grateful. His tone was a combination of the pain of the actual removal of the sensors and something more that darkened his expression.

Had he thought she meant something by the gesture aside from a comforting motion? And as she thought about it, perhaps she had. Really it had started as a distraction for him to make it easier, but it had ended up distracting her.

A part of her was actually glad when she tore the sensors away because it stopped things from going any further. Stopped her mind from delving further into thoughts and feelings she really did not need to be exploring.

What she didn't anticipate was the sadness she would feel at seeing that hurt look in his eyes trained on her.

She tried to lock it all away as she settled back on her bed, breathing inexplicably increased, likely from the pain she had experienced. She focused her energy on breathing, eyes closed as she tried to slow herself to shallow breaths, full breaths were painful.

She felt Tony reaching for her, his hand forcefully squeezing hers. She opened her eyes to look at him and found it was her turn to be confused. He had transitioned in those few seconds from anger and hurt to concern and she found herself in the position of needing to reassure him again.

"I am OK, Tony. I should not be moving quite that fast just yet."

His brow was wrinkled as he considered her and she realized he didn't believe her. Perhaps it was for the best. Perhaps this lack of trust was what they needed to get back on the right track.

Tony rolled to his side, reaching out to turn her face towards him. "You're doing it again."

She sighed, "Doing what exactly?"

"That thing where you hide yourself away so I can't tell what's going on in here?" he emphasized it by running his fingers across her forehead before tucking her hair back behind her ear.

"It is better that way."

He considered that a moment before giving a gentle shake of his head. "I really don't think it is."

She didn't acknowledge his comment, couldn't seem to find the words. She knew whatever she said would either tear the two of them apart now or tear the team apart later, so instead she let her eyes drift closed.

She didn't tell him to stop caressing her face and the skin on her neck. She didn't even let him know she noticed. After a couple of minutes she let her muscles all relax, giving Tony the impression that she had slipped into a deep sleep.

Truth be told, she probably couldn't sleep if she wanted to. With Tony stroking from her temple to her neck and back with gentle fingers, she felt herself trying to memorize the feelings, memorize his touch.

Knowing that after this moment she would push him back away from her for his own good. She knew she should do it now. Like the sensors, suddenly and without giving him a chance to react, but she couldn't bring herself to do it.

It could wait until they were both rested, though. She could take comfort in this last time of relying on him for comfort when she was feeling more vulnerable than she could remember being, even as a child.

She eventually felt his hand still against her neck as he fell asleep.

After several minutes, before she let sleep take her she gave in to her desire for contact. Ziva rolled towards him and put her hand on his chest, feeling the warmth and gentle rise and fall of each breath.

xoxo

A/N: Still one or two chapters to go. It's very exciting to be coming to the end.

I ran some math and apparently for every three hundred times this gets read one of you tells me what you think. I'd really like to hear how some of the rest of you think I'm doing with this, but if you want to wait one or two more chapters until it says 'The End", I'm totally fine with that, too.


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter 32

Tony was confused. It was something he found himself feeling so often over the last five days. Ever since he woke up in the hospital after his EEG. As he sat in the car driving back to Washington DC with Ziva as his only company he found his mind wandering.

He had woken from the EEG test to realize he was having tape ripped off his body, but once he was awake that wasn't so bad. It was painful and annoying, but then Ziva stopped the technician from removing anymore and began soothing his pain.

Her fingers on his face had calmed him, while making his heart race at the same time, a contradiction that still made him smile. The way she touched his lip with a focused look of intensity and heat had put an ache in his stomach.

It had him wishing this were any situation other than near total incapacitation for both of them. It had him wondering what she was thinking and if it was anywhere near the level of erotic his brain threw at him in those brief moments.

It all ended abruptly when he closed his eyes to savor the feelings and she pulled the sensors off in one fell swoop. It hurt like a bitch, but he had to admit, it was preferable to having them each removed one at a time.

At the time he had been mad, because as soon as his brain registered what she had done he realized she had just been distracting him so she could pull them unnoticed. Do it quickly while he was unguarded. He had felt a moment of confusion, followed by remorse for what he thought they may have been headed for.

Logically he knew it would never work. Logically he knew it couldn't work, shouldn't work. But he was not feeling very logical while her thumb gently caressed his lips. He was feeling a surge of primal desire and carnal lust. He was also feeling something tender that warmed his chest and softened his resolve. He was feeling a certain rightness in a world that was so wrong so often.

Suddenly, it was all gone and he thought she may have been just messing with him through the entirety of his minor epiphany. It had hurt to think she had just been toying with him, regardless of the motives behind why.

When he looked at her, however, face pale, breath shallow, eyes squeezed tightly closed, his anger and hurt was swiftly replaced with concern. She had caused herself pain to save him from a longer period of suffering and as he looked at it logically, she had done the right thing.

Perhaps she had gone about it in the wrong way, playing with his emotions like that, but it had been for the right reasons.

He didn't understand why she tried to pull back into her shell, or why she fiend sleep just to avoid a conversation with him. He didn't understand why sleep was so hard for him to achieve when he was completely exhausted except that she was letting him touch her and he had a feeling this would be the last time she would.

He forced his body to relax in hopes that his mind would follow into sleep, but it was not effective. It wasn't until she had rolled into his touch and reached a hand out to rest on his chest that sleep finally came.

They were woken by Abby and McGee later that day with presents. Cute little black bags with red bows and black with white skull tissue paper poking out the top. He had been stoked about the iPhone, especially as McGee gave him personal instructions on how to go through all the aspects of it, how to get Aps and 'most importantly' how to video message with Abby. Abby helped Ziva at the same time and during all the activity their beds had been shifted apart.

Had he known it would be the last time their beds were pushed together, the last time he would feel her touch so soft and intimate, he may have been more careful about what happened during Abby and McGee's visit.

Two days later Tony was discharged from the hospital, the next day they released her. Ziva wasn't cleared to fly for another week and Gibbs decided, with all the paperwork and rounding up various members of the drug cartel, that they would all stay in Miami another two days, but would need to head home after that.

Abby, McGee and Gibbs were flying out on Friday and Tony had volunteered to drive back with Ziva, because she was not interested in waiting out her flying restriction time. He was hoping it would give them some time to talk and figure out what was going on, and it was basically the only solution that didn't have her doing the entire seventeen hour drive by herself.

The last day before everyone was leaving, Abby talked them into going to the beach. It would have been laughable if it weren't for the fact that it was so damn painful. They must have made quite the sight for the tourists populating the beach.

Abby and McGee were pale beyond belief, slathering sunblock on each other like it was going out of style. Ziva and McGee looked as if they had been through a war zone with all the patches of bruises and various fresh sets of stitches covering their bodies.

Ziva was wearing a modest white one piece bathing suite with a wrap around her hips. It was a far cry from the bikini she had worn last time they were anywhere that a bathing suit was the suggested attire. As he glimpsed the swoop of fabric in the back that left the skin of her back exposed he was fairly certain as to why that was.

Nearly all of the exposed skin on her back was shades of purple and blue and she had apparently had some cuts that required stitches. He thought that it was fortunate none of them had planned on getting in the still cold water, because he was sure Tim and Ziva weren't allowed to get certain parts of their bodies wet.

Tim wore a pair of board shorts and no shirt as if proudly displaying his battle wounds. It was the first Tony had seen the man's bruises and marks and he couldn't help but feel a few things on the subject.

His first thought was how painful that must have been, followed by a wave of respect for the way Tim had gotten up from 4 point blank chest shots to finish the take down of the cabin.

The last thought he let himself have on the subject before he was worried his nausea would spoil their day was that one of those bruises looked to be in just about the right spot to miss the vest entirely. He had made a mental note to have a heart to heart with McGee later. Not just to say thanks and let him know he was proud of him, but also to say congratulations, because crack investigator that he was, he could tell McGee and Abby were back together again.

They had been great together and they both deserved to be happy. Tony was glad they had both found that happiness.

To his credit, Tony had actually followed through on his promise to himself later that night. Tim had ducked his head sheepishly as Tony praised and congratulated him, but his smile was genuine.

Slowly the story spilled out. The facts of his wounds and how close he had come to death. This all transitioned into an explanation of how he and Abby ended up where they were now, which was taking things a day at a time.

Tony and Tim had never been closer than that night as they sat and talked about the frustration of pining for a woman who you were certain you would never have.

Tony felt better having put voice to all the things that had been going through his mind over the last couple of days. Things that, he had admitted to Tim, were not entirely new thoughts, just more frequent. It was almost odd how close he felt to McGee as he thought about the younger man.

Tony had never had much of a family, but as Ziva drove them towards home he found himself reflecting on how much Tim was like a little brother to him. After this trip to Florida and the lengths McGee had gone through that day, he couldn't help feeling a whole new respect for the young man.

He imagined it was probably something real brothers went through. The older brother always teasing, but protecting, until the day something happens. Something that makes them realize that the 'kid' they had been teaching and protecting had grown into a strong man in his own right.

Tony saw the sign for the South Carolina state line. They were about halfway home, but he and Ziva were getting further apart.

She had been avoiding him since she got out of the hospital. Spending time in his presence only when necessary, but obviously conscious of how close she was to him. She had reached out to him as if out of habit at one point, but stopped herself mid-motion and dropped her hand suddenly. She turned away from him, in more ways than one.

She was antsy and anxious for days and she definitely was not pleased that her driving partner for the entire trip back was going to be DiNozzo.

Gibbs said he had to go back on a plane because he was the only able-bodied member of the team left, so he couldn't waste the time of a drive back. Then McGee said he needed to go back because of all the paperwork he would need to catch up on from the shooting. Followed by Abby saying she had been away from the lab way too long not to fly back and get to work right away.

Ziva had made the connection that Tony would be the one to drive back with her and had immediately volunteered, "I can drive back by myself."

"The hell you will." Gibbs had responded. "DiNozzo, you able to drive?"

Tony had just nodded, stomach in a knot as he thought that if she were nearly as distant in the car as she had been previously, it was going to be the longest road trip in history.

He had been right. Only about halfway to their destination and already the tension in the car was driving him up a wall. The only respite of the trip was when Abby called them up, video messaged rather. It was the only time Ziva smiled, the only time she interacted or communicated except when it was necessary to the trip.

She was starting to piss him off and he wished she would just stop doing this, but as he thought about it, he really wasn't any better than her. Sulking quietly on the passenger side of the car was probably making her uncomfortable.

They were headed back to D.C. Where things would go back to normal. Not because he wanted them to, but as he thought about it, because he really didn't know what he wanted. He found himself shaking off his reservations as he realized she was most likely right.

As close as he had felt they'd gotten in that little hospital room, it was a time he was going to have to lock away.

It was not real. It was not them. It was almost as if they had been replaced with kinder, gentler, more emotionally stable people. The more he thought about that, the more sense it made for her to be pulling away and trying to get him to go back to how things were before.

He searched his brain, trying to remember how things had been before they left for Florida. Knowing they had to take that step back did not feel good, but at least it felt comfortable. He had to admit, feeling comfortable was better than how things had felt to him over the last week.

"You know," he paused to clear his scratchy throat, as he thought about it at lest three hours had passed since he had spoken. He continued looking out the window, hoping she would follow his lead, "Your driving has improved."

"I told you that last week." she replied, eyes not leaving the road in front of her, words spoken slowly as if tentatively.

"Then you proved yourself a liar by almost killing us on the drive back to the naval yard."

She scoffed at him, "You told me to drive crazy so we could get back quickly."

Tony scanned his memory, remembering his foul mood, the horrible traffic and what he had said to her. He continued to watch her driving, still a little over the speed limit, but neither erratic nor dangerous. He couldn't stop the grin or the chuckle. "OK, so I guess I did asked for it."

She smiled as well and he watched from the corner of his eyes as she relaxed in her seat.

It took nearly all of his will power to force the relaxed joking tone she was accustomed to as they continued to talk and joke almost as if the previous week hadn't happened at all.

At night they pulled off to sleep at some dive of a motel before getting back on the road the next morning. He hadn't gotten much sleep, thinking of her on the other side of the wall from him instead of right there next to him.

He woke with her name on his lips as further proof of an erotic dream and he headed for the bathroom to grab a quick shower. He was glad for the crappy motel's lack of sufficient hot water storage.

He was sure it was a trick of light or his imagination that suggested she looked just as worn out as he felt. Certainly she wasn't having the same issue, not with the way she was avoiding him and pushing him away.

He laughed into the silence of the car at the thought of how that trip to Florida had turned him into a square peg and she was trying to force him back into the round hole he came from. She looked at him funny and he had to think on his feet at why he had suddenly laughed without provocation. "I was just thinking about that boy your dad busted you making out with."

It worked, because she didn't want to talk about it anymore and she carefully maneuvered the conversation onto safer topics.

By the time they reached D.C. It was almost four in the afternoon on a Saturday.

Tony was exhausted from spending a day in tense silence and another day faking that everything was normal between him and Ziva. He couldn't go home, though, because he had promised Abby that he would stop in to see her when he picked up his car at the navy yard, it had been left there when he and Ziva flew out the previous week.

With a sigh he grabbed his backpack from the backseat and headed in to see Abby.

xoxo

McGee had been working through paperwork. It was remarkably annoying trying to type with one hand and his broken one was starting to ache. He knew he should take something for the pain, but glancing at the clock, he figured he would wait until he made it home.

He was staring blankly at his computer screen when the elevator dinged and Ziva made her way slowly into the bullpen. She laid her backpack on her desk and sat against the edge of it considering him, "Where is Gibbs?"

"He just left to get coffee, he should be back in twenty minutes or so." McGee said as he turned back to typing with one hand in the hopes of avoiding the obvious frustration coming off of Ziva in waves.

From the corner of his eye he watched her gaze drift to Tony's desk. She was watching it as if she were curious about something and then she subtly shifted over to Tony's desk where she surreptitiously swiped something off the desktop.

Ziva returned to her desk and sat before unfolding a single white piece of paper.

McGee recognized the paper, and he remembered not being able to locate it when Teresa Chandler had been on her way in.

It all clicked and he remembered slamming Lieutenant Macey's Journal entry on Tony's desk when Abby and Gibbs hadn't been forthcoming with information that morning he had found Abby in an emotional state behind Tony's desk.

His mind flitted over the entry that had been burned into his memory as he watched her reading through it.

_I Find myself watching her and wondering why it is that I just can't tell her everything. We have danced around this situation for five years, flirting and making jokes, but it never goes beyond a joke or a sultry look shared in a quiet moment. I see her everyday and everyday I want to see her every night as well, but I fight the urge._

McGee couldn't help but try to dissect the entry for what may have been in there that would let Ziva know it hadn't been written by Tony and directed towards her. He couldn't think of a single thing that gave away the identity of the writer and he found himself in an internal battle over whether or not to tell her the background on what she was reading.

He and Tony had a conversation in Florida that hinted at Tony's feelings toward Ziva being something more than partners, though he was sure Tony really didn't understand or know what he wanted from her or them.

Tim couldn't help watching Ziva's reaction as she read through and finished the paper before staring for a long moment at Tony's empty chair. She seemed confused, but he wasn't sure because it was not an expression he was used to seeing on her. There was a soft smile pulling up one corner of her mouth and he went to work cataloging how he would write that expression if he had to, only to draw a near blank.

The elevator dinged and Ziva glanced over her shoulder spotting Tony as he walked off. To McGee's surprise she quickly folded the paper and placed it in her pocket, strapping on a casual expression before Tony reached the space between their desks.

Tony was carrying a gift box he recognized from seeing it in Abby's lab earlier that day.

Tony's mood had been improved during his visit with Abby, and the present from her made him smile. It was also comfortable and familiar to walk in and see Tim and Ziva at their desks. Helped him put Ziva back in place and lit a fire on his teasing side.

He opened the top on the rectangular gift box as he leaned over Ziva's desk. "Check out what Abby gave me."

"Chocolate covered strawberries?" she asked not sure why he would be so excited about the sweetened fruit.

"Mm hmm," he said pulling one out of the paper-lined box and eating it with flourish. "I have been craving strawberries for the better part of a week, and this is, by far, the best way to eat them."

She just shrugged, but she knew the reference he was making, even if he didn't.

He pulled another strawberry out of the box and held it out to her, "You have to try this. It will knock your socks off. You have no idea what you've been missing."

"I have had them before, Tony." she replied, but couldn't stop herself from leaning forward and taking the berry out of his hands with her mouth.

Tony seemed flustered by her actions, and his focus was on her lips as she took hold of the berry and savored a bite, "I don't believe it. If you had eaten one of these, you would never put salt on them. I still don't understand how you could put salt on something as delicious as this. You know what else is weird? How did you get a strawberry out on that beach?"

Ziva licked her lips on reflex to the reference, tasting the sweet juice from the fruit she had just eaten. She realized the exact moment that Tony remembered it wasn't strawberries on the beach.

Tony's breath caught in his throat as he watched Ziva's tongue sweep slowly across her lower lip and he finally registered that his craving for strawberries had nothing to do with the fruit itself. It had everything to do with his subconscious desire for her.

Gibbs chose that moment to breeze into the bullpen. "DiNozzo, David, what are you doing here?"

"Just picking up my car." Tony said. Gibbs continued to stare at him, and after several seconds he finally added, "Go home and rest. On it Boss."

Tony saw the elevator doors close, realizing that somehow Ziva had left her desk and boarded the elevator while he was standing there staring.

xoxo

A/N: The journal entry was in chapter 5 if you want to read it again to know what Ziva is thinking Tony wrote of her.

OK, so the case has been wrapped up for a while and I have sort of wrapped everything else up. I have one last chapter to take care of the non-case things that are still floating, and you know which two people I'm talking about. If you don't want to see them as anything more than friends with unresolved sexual tension, then you probably don't want to stick around for the last chapter and just let it all end here for you. If you want to see that, then next chapter it is.

Sorry for the delay, busiest weekend ever. Typing speed is down because I got my nails done. My niece got married today, so I haven't been able to finish as quickly as I should have. Even though Halloween is tomorrow and we have big plans with the kids, I'm going to try and get the last chapter up before the end of the day tomorrow.


	33. Chapter 33

Chapter 33

As Tony turned the key in the lock on his front door his stomach dropped. The door was already unlocked.

He thought back to leaving for Florida and was certain he had locked it. His hand went to the gun at his hip before readying himself to enter. He slowly turned the handle and pushed the door open, his gun preceding him into the darkened recesses of his living room.

He spotted Ziva immediately. She appeared to have been pacing in front of his coffee table. He sighed with a combination of frustration and relief as he looked down and started holstering his weapon.

Tony kicked the door closed behind him, about to give her a lecture on how she should learn how to knock and wait outside like a normal person. Just as he got the gun situated in his holster she was suddenly in front of him shoving him into the door.

She planted her feet and braced her arm across his chest, elbow at his collar bone, but forearm so close to his neck he was actually a little nervous she might choke him out.

He racked his brain for whatever he could have done to set her off. He was certain he hadn't done anything on the drive back. He thought work had gone fine, aside from the recovery of his memory. That had all been in his head and he hadn't shared it with her at all, hadn't brought it up.

His brain flashed through several things and dismissed them in the matter of a split second before he was responding, "What the hell, Ziva?"

She was silent for a long moment, simply staring angrily into his eyes from so close. He could feel the heat off her body even through his winter coat and her proximity was having an effect on the resolve he had built up.

If he moved his legs or rocked his hips forward their bodies would be in contact more than just her arm holding him against this door. Would she kill him right there? And what would happen if she didn't kill him?

He willed his brain to stop tormenting him, but it continued the battle of noticing her features, her feminine curves and then trying to dismiss the perception.

He was losing the battle with himself and finally gave in and let his more carnal thoughts take over as he thought that if she would just move her arm a little he could move his head enough to kiss her A real kiss, not like on the beach a week before.

"You have to stop this." She finally responded.

"Stop _what_?" he asked with genuine confusion.

"Stop thinking about me as anything more than your partner and colleague." Her voice was whisper soft, but the glare was still hard and aimed directly at him.

That glare usually stopped him in his tracks, but for reasons he would probably never be able to explain, that part of his brain seemed to be off.

He considered whether she had a penchant for mind reading or if he was just that easy to read. Either way, the part of his brain that kept him from walking in front of the bus on the street was markedly absent as he gave her a cocky grin.

He moved his head closer to her, still too far away to reach where he wanted to. She had him pretty thoroughly pinned against the door, "It's pretty hard to do that," he said in a voice that was huskier than he expected, "when you're this close." As if to illustrate his point he shifted his left foot and rocked his hips forward into hers. The sudden nearly full body contact sent a jolt through him as he waited for death.

There was a flash of something in her eyes that he didn't recognize, but it was gone in an instant and replaced with a burning anger as she took a small step back.

He knew he was dead in that instant as she placed both hands on his chest and forcefully shoved him into the door, but instead of killing him she turned and took a couple of steps away.

"I'm sorry, Ziva, I didn't mean,"

She cut him off with a glare over her shoulder and this time he headed the warning. "This ends here."

He groaned in frustration and confusion as he covered the space between them in a single long stride. He grabbed her arm and turned her forcefully towards him, "I don't have the slightest idea what has gotten into you." His tone was fire and ice.

He did not like being blindsided. He was incredibly confused by her sudden switch from playful minx who took a strawberry from his hands with her mouth to deadly vixen with an eye for a kill.

Had she been reading his mind and hearing his thoughts about her over their time in the hospital or in the bullpen earlier, just then standing against his door? Or had she just finally gotten sick of his jokes and come-ons, which as of very recently were more than just teasing and lighthearted?

If that was the case, he supposed, this was the end of that fantasy.

If she has this negative of a reaction to him just thinking of her, then there was no chance of anything ever happening. He felt his hope fade a little as he took in her expression in the stony silence. It wouldn't have ended well, anyway.

What if it did? His brain shot back at him.

She hadn't pulled away from him. She was letting him hold her arm in his tight grasp as she stared up at him. Sometimes he wished she would drop that mask of anger and let him see what was really going on inside her head.

He knew it wasn't fair to ask when he didn't let his guard down either, but the thought left him reeling. If she was being guarded that meant she was scared of something.

Was she having all the same doubts he was. Was she thinking that they would be a huge disaster and they would mess up the only really pure friendship that either of them had?

Or perhaps, much like him, she was scared what it would mean if it worked out.

Tony would never be able to explain why he did what he did next.

Perhaps it was the look in her eyes as she glanced past him to the door as if preparing to run again. Perhaps it was her body pulled close to his and her arm firmly in his grasp. Or maybe it was the primitive heat that surged through his body as she absently licked her lips.

Whatever it was, pushed his resolve, shook whatever normally held him from doing anything that might result in her killing him, and caused everything he had made himself swear to on the long drive home to be thrown out the window.

He watched her eyes widen slightly as he leaned towards her, but to his surprise she didn't pull away. He stopped, his mouth hovering near hers, her breath mingling with his which has increased due to her proximity.

He knew she wanted to run, but she hadn't yet. He knew she had been pulling away from him ever since the hospital, but he wouldn't push her. He stayed there, not closing the last of the distance, giving her a chance to run away again, but knowing it would tear his heart out if she did.

"What are you doing?" she breathed and he felt every word as if it was rolling through his body which was already humming from her heat.

"Not a thing," he whispered back, eyes locked on hers. "Just trying to figure you out."

"Oh, like I am the one that is so confusing?"

"Confusing, irritating, frustrating," he began before his voice dropped, becoming husky, "Playful, intriguing, irresistible." he couldn't wait for her to move anymore. He was right, she was irresistible.

He closed the space between them and finally captured her mouth with his.

He felt her gasp against his lips as her soft flesh molded with his. She stood stock still for a moment and he didn't push her. He didn't try to go any further, but he also didn't pull back from the gentle contact.

After a moment he felt her relax into him and his hand came up to her face. He let his fingers brush across her cheek before moving them into her hair.

It was as if that gesture were her undoing.

As his fingers tangled in her hair she pulled back enough to let out a trembling sigh before sucking his lower lip into her mouth and gently nipping it with her teeth.

He felt a sudden chill down his spine as his other hand finally released her arm to move to the swell of her hip and gently pull her to him, molding her body fully against him.

Her arm, now freed, allowed her hand to travel up and run through his hair. Her hand stopped in the longest of his short hair, baling into a tight fist and holding the hair tightly. It was as if she were concerned he might pull away If she didn't hold on to him.

Just the thought that she was concerned he might pull away from her after how much she had turned from him over the past few days would have made him laugh if it weren't for the fact that laughter was the furthest thing from his mind.

The raw heat of the moment had weakened his knees and given him the unsettling feeling that his legs might actually collapse under him.

It was as if she could actually read his mind as she took a few very small steps backwards until they were standing next to his couch.

Unfortunately, neither seemed inclined to break the embrace. So they stood there, locked in heated kisses, heavy breaths, weak knees, but not able to transition to the couch.

Suddenly, Ziva pulled away from him with a frustrated growl, grabbed the lapels on his jacket. She forcefully swung him around, and shoved him. He felt an instant wave of hurt and sudden regret that she had finally come to her senses.

He felt himself stumble backwards from the sudden change in emotion from grasping and clinging heat and passion, to sudden violent shoving.

The back of his legs hit the front of his couch and he lost his balance, falling back onto the cushions.

It was the briefest of moments between their separation and Ziva straddling his lap as she brought her mouth back in contact with him, her body flush against his.

Tony's heart was racing. Every nerve ending in his body seemed to be on fire from her touch, the weight of her on his lap, the feel of her chest against his as she breathed as frantically as he did. Her hands in his hair, holding his head as her glorious mouth made swift work of wiping out any thought he had ever had with any of the women he had ever been with.

Her kisses were sweet and seductive one moment, hot and impatient the next. Her tongue dancing with his in a tango like none other.

He felt his hands gravitate to her hips as she began rocking them against him as if unable to wait for what she could feel growing at their touch. Her breath was fast and ragged when he pulled back a moment to pull in large gasps of fresh air, breathing through his nose had proven ineffective when his heart was racing so quickly.

Her face was flushed with desire, cheeks far past pink at this point, and he found himself suddenly lost in her eyes. He wasn't sure what he saw there, but the desire was heavy and overpower any other thoughts that might be swimming in her eyes, far darker than the normal brown depths.

When her hands shifted from his hair to the buttons on his shirt, he lost all coherent thought. He had dreamed this moment more times than he could possibly count, but nothing he ever thought had prepared him for the intensity of sensation that overwhelmed him in this moment.

"Ziva," he gasped out as her fingers met the bare skin of his chest and brushed the hair there. Her lips moved to kiss a trail down his neck and a jolt went through his body. His brain screamed at him to pull her face back up to his, capture her mouth again, bite his lip, anything to stop what tumbled out of his mouth next, "What are we doing?"

It took several long seconds for her lips to stop as if she were so caught up in the moment that thoughts weren't registering immediately. She rested her head against his shoulder, breathing ragged. "This is what you want, yes?"

He felt a groan rip from him, rattling his entire body, "Oh God, Ziva." he gasped out, "You have no idea how much."

She lifted her head to look him in the eyes, he saw hesitation there, mingled with the heat and desire. Saw something else that didn't fully register until she spoke, her voice forced to a level tone, but the tremble of concern registered immediately, "To notch your bedpost?"

The anger was immediate and sweeping. He had never gone from zero to pissed in less than a second. Tony grabbed her shoulders forcefully and pushed her off of him to the cushion next to where they had both been sitting.

He saw her wince from her still fresh injuries, but at the moment he couldn't bring himself to care about the physical pain she was suffering as his hope crumbled and he shot out of the seat and spun to face her.

"Don't you dare." he hissed, "Don't turn this into a joke about me."

He registered the uncertainty on her face. Did she really think so little of him? Did she really think that he would be willing to throw away everything they had for a single night, or was that uncertainty tied to something deeper? Was she just feeling out whether or not he had let his instincts get the better of him or whether he wanted something more than just a single night together?

He couldn't possibly know because she was so guarded and seemed to be pulling back inside herself again. It broke his heart to watch the passion fade from her eyes as she looked once again for an escape route.

He couldn't take it if she left now. Not just because of the burning need his body was telling him not to ignore, but because his heart was already breaking just thinking about it.

He stepped forward and leaned over her, bracing himself against the back of the couch, "I wouldn't throw away what we have just to screw you for a night." she was so close that he had to fight the urge to kiss her again as he saw her looking up at him with pleading eyes, asking all the questions she didn't seem to be able to voice, "If you really think so little of me or if one night is all _you_ want, then you should get the hell out of here before we take this any further."

He saw her start to move and felt his heart shatter as he contemplated her leaving and them going back from this to whatever messed up relationship they had before.

But then she stopped, eyes staring up at him and a ghost of a smile on her face, "And if I want more?" she asked in a voice he didn't recognize. The soft tone and subtle hints of fear and insecurity were not the Ziva he knew.

He couldn't stop the huge grin that spread across his face as he leaned back into her, "Then stay." he said as he captured her lips again.

This time their kisses were tender and slow, tentative and gentle. Gone was the rushing urge to get wherever they had been going, replaced with the knowledge that they would have plenty of time for everything they had ever wanted.

He guided her down onto the sofa cushion, careful of her injuries as he arranged himself over her and pulled away to look into her eyes.

He rested his weight on his elbow so he could bring his fingers up to brush gently over her face, "I want this, Ziva. And it might kill me in the long run, hell, you might kill me someday for being idiotic, but if you let me, I will do everything in my power to make you happy." he swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat as his eyes took in her smile and a slight sheen that clouded the brown of her eyes from his view, "We don't have to do anything tonight, but please stay."

She gave him that playful smile that always made a bolt of heat race through him, but with her body pressed full length against his the heat made him tremble.

Ziva shifted her hips provocatively against his, "Your body says we should be doing something."

He couldn't stop the groan or the increase in his breathing at the erotic gesture, but he had to swallow his desire, "I don't care what my body is saying. Listen to my words, Ziva. I want us. Not just tonight, but tomorrow and for as long as you'll have me."

Her grin was immediate. "Let's start with tonight." she whispered huskily as she moved her mouth back to his and slipped her arms up his back under the shirt, raking her fingernails down his back. "Not because I doubt your words, but because I'm not so sure I can ignore my own desire."

With a wink she set him loose, relief mixed with something indescribable in his body, causing his stomach to tighten into knots and his heart to fill to bursting.

He grudgingly pulled himself up off her, helped her to her feet and led her down the hall to his bedroom.

***END***

xoxo

A/N: So there it is, the first story I have ever finished that was longer than 20 pages and the first thing I have written in almost 10 years. I hope you enjoyed the ride.

Now, I have a question for you...

I have a sequel spinning in my head that is tied to this case and explores further into the bomb that was only peripherally related to this case. A related case that would take Tony and Ziva back to Florida on an undercover assignment.

So the question is, do you want to read it? If I hear enough feedback wanting a sequel, then a sequel you will get, otherwise I will be taking a break as I wait for inspiration to hit again on another story started from scratch.

Thank you for reading and being a part of this journey with me.

~MommaKristine


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